A Crayon's Conspiracy Poem by Shannon Harney

A black crayon and a white crayon
Have been pulled out of a box,
Each on a pedestal
That varies in size.
Slowly they grow and shrink to meet
Then is the change to stop there?
An overcorrection will likely be made
As these pedestals alter in size.
It is difficult to get equality right.
You see, the trouble is in man
In the whole box of crayons
No one color is clean.
Someone had to be first,
Circumstance aiding only one
To rise on the cursed pedestal.
But stop and think of a paradox
What if the darker crayon
Had the opportunity to rise first
Would hands have been reaching down to every color
To aid them in an equal ascent?
No, the sickness is in all crayons
And the situation would be reversed