Just like all the others
I barely hear you say
But you don't get it
You don't know that my hands are dead
And coldness hide behind my eyes
You don't see me walk away in defeat.
You see my painted skin and place me outside
But you don't know that the cold rushes to my face, and that paint you classified me with is on the white walls
You didn't see me wipe away the cold
Trying to make the paint look somewhat like it did before
You didn't care to think about the red color what wasn't supposed to be there
Or the botched skin that was hidden behind the different colors
I'm not like the others
But you don't care to think about that
Only about how I was painted on
But you didn't see me stair blankly at the half of the field with no players on it
You didn't see me refuse their offerings
While I tried to hold back the cold.
You didn't see me walk towards the exit,
Someone calls to me
And the cold is brought forth
You didn't see it
And neither did she
Nor did she care
But neither did you
Because you didn't hear the cold escape from my mouth, or see me take off another form of cold
Refusing, again, the others warmth
You didn't feel my stomach lurch at the thought of something I loved
You didn't care to think of how I held someone, and they all took what little warmth I had left
You didn't see my colors painted onto someone else in such a way, only the cold could have done it.
You didn't care to think about the call I made to my mother
And the way it stung when the time came to return to the place that gave me the coldness.
And all because you didn't care to hear the pain when I said
Whatever.
