Oldnewjournal

a metaphor perhaps?

We are born;
pure, pristine, unblemished.

Life happens,
in colourful,
beautiful splotches it hits us,
leaving us stained,
bent and expanded on the outside.
No longer perfect.

Open us up,
explore the inside and
you can see the work of the creator.

Or maybe that’s just a stretch!

james modisette and john feezell:
“the world’s not gold or silver but tarnished brass
and the window through my soul is tinted glass”