There he was,

a clown

grasping for the balloons in his belly reaching outside the classroom for more than this,

he finds himself in clouds, puffyness, a softness in colors yet is bound to the ground,

gripping onto his suit,

as the creams and browns try take over his body,

this is society

the classroom your crib,

the desk your blanket,

the pencil your comfort

they tell him to shut his mouth for his sweet tooth is sickening,

a clown he is, too afraid of rotting out,

but too colorful to fit in.