I once knew a kid named orange
It was a weird name
But I mean my name was McLeod
So who was I to judge
Orange was a kid who got mad
Like, lots. Orange got mad at menial things, nowhere near getting mad about.
Orange would spiral and spiral, then wonder why they had to pick up the pieces, a salvage
Orange was a pretty lonely kid
Pretty shy, pretty content to keep to themselves
Orange and I just played Pokemon all day, we kept to ourselves and we got along fine.
I like to think so.
Orange liked to read a lot
So Did I. We read Goosebumps, we read Calvin and Hobbes. We learned everything. Everything we needed to.
Orange was a funny kid. I like to think so.
Orange was an...odd kid. The kind of kid you have no hope of understanding their head, and looking back, I have no clue what they were thinking either. I always thought I would by now.
Orange...what an imagination
Orange had different little lives they lived with each show they liked, each book, each character and game and comic.
Orange never really made friends. But I did. I moved on. I grew up some. I don’t know if they did.
But who am I to judge.