Life started as a Rubik’s cube

Each color to a side.

Then as if someone twisted it

and set it down confused,

My life was suddenly a

complex, twisted cube.

I’ve spent these last few years

fixing it, matching up the colors

and putting everything in place.

But disease and death and hardship

have left the colors messy and displaced.

So one by one, off they come

till no colors do remain.

It’s better like this anyhow,

a blank cube no longer twisted.

No predetermined standards,

only choices and colors

left up to only me.