I am not a crayola
My skin does not come prepackaged,
nor is it made of wax.
I am not meltable.

My skin comes unpackaged,
It is not meant for molding.
You can not melt me down
or try to manipulate me.

Crayolas are meant for molding;
they make marks for a limited perspective.
The world tries to manipulate,
and it succeeds.

I make marks for broader perspectives;
it will be an infinite cycle of colors
succeeding
in creating layers that are never-ending.

I need an infinite cycle if colors for my skin.
I refuse to be labeled like a soup can.
I am layers that are never-ending,
I am more than faded paper peeling.

When you place a label on me like a soup can,
I will absorb it, and remember it to my core.
My resistance to hate is like folded paper peeling,
I cannot counter it differently.

But I will make you absorb this, remember it to your core;
remember that I can simply accept you as my own.
I can counter the world differently.
We are the same.

So I accept the world as my own,
breathe in all the colors beneath the souls;
we are not the same.
Not meant to be shoved inside folded paper peeling

As I breathe I feel all the colors beneath my soul, and I know:
I am not prepackaged, nor am I made of wax.
I am not meant to be inside folded paper peeling.
I am not a Crayola.