Outrage:Loss

I designed my own world once.
Each color, intricately chosen by hand, and so much detail and thought.
I painted the towns with my wonder.
And then the hurricanes came. And you were them.
And you let the towns drown
and all the color dripped from your fingertips.
It should have been obvious you did it
with all the blood on your hands. All the...paint.
And even the children drowned at your mercy.
Can we call it mercy really? Or cruelty.
Maybe I judge too harshly. We're all guilty.
And I'm just another face, losing my mind.
But I was a painter once. Once I was.
But you ripped through that.
I pulled myself underground, bundled tightly for the cold
and it stung my face with discipline.
Told me, "Sit down child and listen, but do not move."
So I stayed under and the world walked atop.
I was not part of the world. You did not drown me
but I was a child.
I am not a child any longer.
But I would still like to be a painter.
And so I lived in the world of snow,
where even the cold was warm inside
and the white, blank atmosphere
was a never ending canvas I painted with my footsteps.
You can't take that away anymore. It's my world.
And you can't take it away
unless you take away my eyes.
Go.