red paint

here I stand

in a puddle of quicksand

doing my best not to panic

doing my best to trust you

trust that everything will be okay

that we will prevail

but it's hard

because my hands

and arms

they're covered

in red 

from me

it's all over the place

my hands tainted with this red

you won't even reach out to help

you just stand there

watching me sink

watching me fail

all I need is a hand

to grab onto 

but you won't

your hands still at your side

while mines flail about

judgement seeps out of your pores

I feel it suffocating me

I don't even attempt to fight it

this is my punishment

but once

if only one single time in history

I wish you realized

that we have the same tainted hands

with the same red paint.