We are in an odd world.
I itch to smile at its colors
But some days they are blurred;
Mixing together, smearing mud
Across a body we experience
Then escape once—
Not more, only once,
But for now the assortment of shades
And hues are beyond our control
While we stay.
Perhaps it's how it's meant to be—
A striking display,
Appealing one day
But grotesque after steps are taken.
Maybe it's okay to walk backward
To recall the familiarity—holding off
What is unknown and unseen.
But the odd world won't wait forever
So at some point we must walk.
Even if mud stains our clothes.