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