Flea Market

Flea market 

 

Born into Innocence 

 

Colored with an invisible crayon 

 

Relentlessly follows his unknowing leader 

 

Dependent on the actions of others 

 

Picked out of a dozen white roses 

 

All so soft yet he blooms the brightest 

 

He smiles all day listening to foreign words 

 

Covered by darkness when doing something wrong

 

Confusion is his first instinct 

 

All he wants is love 

 

Born into loving love

 

Given the Chance of love  

 

His brother unlucky

 

All of life wonders complete unknown

 

This poem is about: 
My family

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