Stain

The image falls of its own volition.
Smashed against the floor,
staining the carpet as the paint seeps out.

I kept it fresh, that paint,
adding new layers as they seemed
to occur to me.

And now, they run together
and merge into an unfathomable
murkiness.

I lift the image up and stare;
faded lines and blurred colours
stare back.

The layers I painted, I realise,
Were merely my perception.
The truth stares up at me from the carpet.

Stain.

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