Red Wax and Straight Corners

You asked if I could draw myself... so I looked for paper. Resting near the skirting was a stiff white card and a stub of red crayon. I froze, waiting through two cautious breaths to be sure the room was still. Shuffling forward, I gripped the wax between my pointed hands. I... I tried to think about my own angles. A tall box with sharp corners... two round circles... and a curved line underneath. Pressing down slowly, I dragged the waxy tip across the card with a soft, gritty rasp. A bright red smudge bloomed right where my chest marks are. It is crooked, but completely steady. I think... it looks like me.