Color the Clouds

Dull! Dull! Dull! I’ve turned into pinocchio. Or a stone. I can’t tell. All’s I know, I’m immobile. A haples sack, in such a mood, I colored clouds to feel ‘better’, amidst a frenzied mob that drinks color for breakfast. Observing these strangers, So strange, yes, their flocks aiming reckless. But, I am Made to look happy, the fool. You could throw a brick at me, I wouldn’t feel a thing. My limbs might be slim, but they’ve escaped many a scrape at my low esteem. And they’ll escape more so long as I am dull, and no one, wants to paint my clouds or mood.