Look how poetic I was.

This Stained Canvas

Upon this canvas that we made
many colors, many shades.
But, take a look, you can see
the many stains that we leave.
Stains of blood,
stains of hate,
stains of enmity we create.
Stains of black,
stains of red,
representing our many dead.
Stains of hurt
from the broken,
with the words we shan't have spoken.

But flowing through the mix of color,
is one more shade, just one other.
However small, however weak,
look closely, you can see.
The whitest white,
the purest pure,
the smallest stain, the biggest cure.
This one last stain,
I am speaking of
is the one good stain: love, just love.