Smudge Poem by Invalid Files

The tips of my fingers
Are starting to change colors
From a youthful yellow
To a dull midnight blue

Wearing a long sleeve
To hide my fingers
With a fake air of aloofness
Shying away unconsciously

Stuffing them in my pocket
Pretending to avoid
The cold slaps of wind,
Avoiding the imaginary stares

Some are so eager,
So happy when it's time
For their fingers
To start changing colors

While others still prefer
Playing in the jungle gym,
Piloting a swing
And early Saturday mornings

My fingers can change
For all I care,
Because the core of my being
Is neither yellow nor midnight blue