Crayons.

The red one cried, it spoke with tears,

Such perfect hearts they make,

Don't they see, that the hearts they draw

Will one day have to break.

The blue one sighed, it hugged the red,

This leaves me in such a daze,

That those water drops they draw with me,

Will one day be running down their face.

The black one spoke, it seldom did,

They draw hair with me, they draw curls,

What they don't know, what they can't know,

Is one day I'll fill their world.

The white one turned his back to them,

It spoke quietly

They don't use me much, but I know,

One day they'll feel like me.