Box of Crayons

They all started beautiful
Sorted by color,
All with a protective covering,
Equal in all ways but shade,
All sizes and shapes the same
Over time some were worn out,
Ripped apart, lost, overused or underused,
Still some were kept in tact
On these few you could see their name,
Unaltered by any effects
These were never seen though,
They were kept stored away and never let out
No one was able to see their color
Now the question lay in my mind,
Which is greater:
To be the unseen crayon, Or to show myself to others and run the risk of being used