Falling Colors

This poem is about the inevitability of aging.

The sky-colored paint evenly brushed

on walls that ask for lively skin

bows down to the whims of Time--

cracks and falls from the abundance of lines.

Not even buckets of colors

can mask the forever patches.

Whatever bows down to the whims of time

cracks and falls from the abundance of lines.

The years are fought, but always return

to take and peel what sticks on walls.

Whoever bows down to the whims of time

cracks and falls from the abundance of lines.

Author's Note

This is my first time asking for a critique so I'm not sure yet on what I'm going to ask for the reviewers to focus on haha