A canvas sits surrounded by other canvases

The other canvases are soft and an even white or cream color,

With no imperfections

But one canvas is covered by a sheet

At first glance you would assume the canvas underneath looks the same as all the others

Even some ignorant or hopeful people may think a beautiful painting is waiting under the sheet

But in reality, under the sheet the canvas is ripped

Pale flesh toned paint has been messily thrown on

Dark red streaks that look like lightning almost burning

Even with the white sheet covering the canvas, it doesn't erase the mess underneath

The red paint is too dark to paint over

There are rips beyond repair, even with some thread it gapes

Maybe, after time, the rips will be less noticeable

The red paint will finally fade
​
And the canvas won’t need to hide behind the sheet

Writer's Statement: ​This was supposed to be a metaphorical/figurative language poem about my personal feelings/experience.