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