I am sorting out a puzzle here,
With its parts scattered here and there.
These have to be collected,
But I doubt which ones to be selected.
Which one should come first,
As I am not that well versed.
Which one should be on the top,
And when should I stop.
Which part will show me the way,
And which one will leave it grey.
Which one will paint it red,
And which is the one that I will later regret.
All this has to be sorted,
In a puzzle that is too distorted.
This puzzle that has made me strive,
Is the puzzle that we call as life.