Once so pure, a blank canvas to start,

Painted with the brushes that stroke the first breath of life,

Colors are vibrant, imagination filled with art,

To meet a new color, it's all euphoric with no strife.

The mixing of colors are unpredictable, to say the least;

A dark color appears, your perspective is swayed,

The picture is turning from bright to oblique

Tainted with a spot that will alway stay.

The water is the eraser that can only do so much;

Dilute the dark spot that has dampened the fixture.

To go back to the original piece, no luck, can't touch,

Maybe the spot was fate, it had to be in the picture.

When we were young, we painted the perfect painting we wanted to aim

But as we grow older, corruption takes over, and you learn you'll never be the same.