You come into this world with your blank canvas in small hands,

Along with your backpack of paint and oil pastels


We were all given a different colored collection


Because while you get your red and your yellow

And she gets her blue and her purple

And he gets his green and pink


I think there was a mess up in my order


It feels like I was given water, invisible ink

I see my red and I throw, but all that seems to show,

Are the seams of starch white canvas

So I try

And I try

And I try

Until my arms and fingers break


But my canvas continues to remain blank.