Crayons

A child colors a picture
Using the crayons mother bought
But what used to be pastel colors
Are now blackened by his thoughts

A child views electrical violence
As he stares into a frame
Mother forgot to tell him
It was fake, just a game

A child drinks his poison
Staring into the bottle with hate
Sitting back and looking up
As his mind begins to alternate

A child dies quite slowly
Death was what he sought
He leaves thinking of pastel colors
In the crayons mother bought