Painted

I saw my face today
I find it bland
I find it trite
I was born with it
It has changed with time
They say it is mine
Some say it is pretty
Some say it is nice.

I painted it.

I painted it black.
It was dark
It was vile
Some thought it was hideous
Many jeered, rest jibed.

I painted it white.
It was fair
It was bright
Some thought it was pure
Many envied, rest liked.

I painted it again.
This time I tried –
Both Black and white
So, left is black
And right is white
It looks better
Better than the rest
It is neither too pretty
Nor a dreary view
They think it is different
Some are without a clue.

I know it is weird.

But, I am tired.
Tired of the reds
Tired of the blues
Tired of the greens
Tired of the browns
Tired of the frowns
Tired of the smiles
They were not real
They were not mine
Masks for the day
Masks for the night
My face as a shadow
While myself as ‘a ghost.’

At least this is honest.
Though, I am quite a sight.