The Art Box

The Art Box. A poem by myself L.S. Fawcett (Writing pseudonym)

I have this frenzy ready to engulf me like a chimera high on cat nip.

What Am I...Crayola.

A cyclonic whirlwind, perfidiously onyx eye, happy to rat me out to a higher self.

Who Am I...Munsell.

Cemented in traditional values, I grow weary of chats revolving around suns in cyberspace.

Where Am I...Pantone.

Cottage cheese swirls for this lie-infested statto, egg-free rations for Europe’s boy or girl.

What Am I...Madder.

Man’s best friend un-leashed, muzzle free-éclat on anyone, not Aryan.

Who Am I...Bright Pink.

No hanging gardens for a wife, wonder threat weapons to reign on my globe of terror.

Where Am I...Crimson.

Rejected by rusty reds, a sugar-free-brat attack, heck did I complain.

What Am I...Cardinal.

Pill-popping sadistic abuser of that niece's cries.

Who Am I...Chocolate Cosmos.

I stole time from lit-up fir trees, spat out venom to some grandparent's desperate ears
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Where Am I...Poppy.

I am the evil, personified, splat in hell from the 1930s and 1940s  … Am I forgiven...