Colorless

People
with eyes that don't see my scars;
ears that won't hear my screams;
noses they refuse to smell the blood.
They ignore the symptoms.
They watch as I slowly leave.
They know but they don't care;
they refuse to face the truth.
They are drones, made for the sole purpose of being there.
Their machines say I'm fine.
I know I'm not.
I'm fine, physically;
scarred but fine.
Mentally I'm dying;
they refuse to face the truth.
I sit in my white room.
In my white world.
They don't allow me any privacy;
any colors.
I'm fading, soon I will be colorless too;
my hair bleached beyond white,
from staying too long under these wretched lights;
my skin nearly as pale as the white metal of my bed;
my only hope is my eyes,
maybe they have retained that fragment of color I long for.
Maybe.
If I could see life,
watch plants grow,
birds hatch,
fish swim,
I might regain what little of my life is left,
regain my color.
Maybe.
Maybe I would go on and learn to live,
maybe I could leave they white behind.
Life could go to my normal,
not normal to them,
the ones keeping me here,
normal for me.
Maybe it would get better,
it might heal me,
maybe.
Bet I won't,
get see anything but white,
watch the world live,
regain color.
I will stay where the only shadows I find, are the ones inside me;
the ones that no one has to search to find.
I will stay where I am watched,
where I am "safe",
where I can't hurt myself.
Only, once again they're wrong,
I'm hurting myself more than anyone can imagine.
I'm hurting myself, but leaving no visible scars.
They think I'm safe,
that I'm sane.
Well I'll let them beleive that,
so I can kill myself before their eyes.
I'm already dying,
killing myself,
I'm shutting down.
I won't let them know,
and they won't until they come in
and take my body away.
They'll bury me,
not notifying anyone,
my parents,
my family doesn't care;
or don't remember.
These people in white,
who knows what they did.
I won't find out.
I won't leave.
I never will,
I don't mind,
this is my life and I have only one goal,
one need,
to die on my own terms,
my own means,
not when their machines determine.
Maybe.
Maybe I will have the power to accomplish this.