Winter And Its Effects Poem by Mae Chase

I hate the cold
I hate the way it freezes my fingers,
Making them too numb to play violin
Making me feel useless and unsuccessful
I hate the way it allows me to hide
In big sweaters and gloves and hats
And inside my room
I hate the way it makes my skin pale and waxy
The way my scars pop with contrast
Against the back of my hands
I hate the cold because I feel fragile,
Like old china
I hate the cold because of the way I feel stuck in my ways
I hate the cold because I can feel it like a weight against my chest
And when I was young,
I thought that death was a man who sat on your chest as you slept
And pressed the very breath right out of you
I hate the empty sky
I hate my emptier mood
I hate my frantic thoughts that go along with it
And I hate the cold