People are more afraid of the fact the situation is beyond their control more so than what is happening to them. Stained He dipped his hand in the bucket And his fingers disappeared When they emerged he had The colors of the rainbow there He had the smile of a little boy And with excitment went to His wall and stuck his fingers there He started painting a gorgeous picture A little stroke here, a little there He couldn't stop, he didn't want to Painted every wall he had Prettiest colors he could find But then the time came to put it away And he shut off the light One last look and it was gone He went to the sink and tried to Wash it off, but came to find It won't come off He had painted his mind with memories And they wouldn't go away completely He looked down at his faded fingers And cried His hands were stained with love. A part of me seems to be there while the other part is in another, better place.