The Painting of Life

The beautiful but shameful works my feet

paints. Each color’s streak

represents something I’ve done.

some look dazzling but there is one

color that looks disgusting, like

a mud stain committed by a passing bike

on a clean white new shirt.

The color clashes with the rest. Alert

whenever people are speculating

my displayed canvas, I try hiding

that gruesome color. I am  tout

but one mistake throws all my works out.

Disappointed, held aback, I try

painting with the right colors and I sigh

pondering when my battered feet

will paint well in the Painting of Life.