CRAYONS

Tell me,
when did a box of crayons become a pack of cigarettes?
And when did bloody knees turn into bloody wrists?

Take me back to the carefree days,
before razors and lighters ever crossed our minds.

I want my freaking coloring book and juice boxes,
but all I can find is coffee and textbooks.

Let me be young, before my crayons were stripped from me and thrown away.
You burned them with your cheap cigarettes and I want them back.

Let me be fearless again, remind me the feeling of innocence.
Please, let me believe.

GIVE ME MY CRAYONS BACK

Just let me be young again

because I'm scared, I'm broken, I'm bloody,

and this smoke is burning my lungs.