Self-Portrait

I am painting a portrait
Picking prudently
The colors to be seen,
Eclipsing the whites and blacks
And all shades in between.

The strokes of my brushes and knives
Strive to shape the perfect curves,
The dyes in my palette
Are hoping they would bring the canvas
The justice it deserves.

But just when the portrait is close enough
To the one I've always admired
My fingers deliberately abandon it unfinished
Because I realize, I ain't neither perfect nor true beauty,
Because I realize that I am indeed painting a portrait of me.