Melted, disfigured, unearthly..
Surrounded by raging fires all around,
The crayon dripped in the perilous flames most aversely..
But the flowing colors painted the canvas background,
In it's own hue conversely..
Had the crayon not been crowned,
With vexing circumstances so adversely..
It would still be to the color box bound,
And though would go on to live cheerfully..
It wouldn't create the masterpiece that would it's true worth resound...!
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