I pick my pencil up to start writing but instead of words tears start falling filling up the pages every space taken up. one after another and with a smear it's all gone away no one can see it. paint it and the wetness isn't visible anymore. Draw a smiley face and a sun and it's a beautiful a work of nature no one can tell that the paper was once wet because the spew of colors cover it. blotches of pink, red and yellow take notice on the plain white surface. everyone looks at it and praises the beauty that stands before them. if they bother to look closer and touch it is still damp you can see the mistakes the wet spots the imperfections and they will ask if that is supposed to be there but there all too busy looking at the beauty and not the whole image. the painting not the canvas. Criticizing complimenting the color patterns ooh its perfect. Being robots turning a blind eye from the reality that there are smears of black or smears of red. looking at the whole picture and saying its beautiful. praising the artist that originally sat down with a piece of paper and a pencil, but the paper got wet, so they walked away and spilled some paint on it covering up the fact that it's not okay and not what they wanted not perfect but ruined by a simple act as a sheading tear.
