Heat in Cold

I am searching for something stolen;
To keep me warm in the cold.
I go mutely from one person to another
Trying to identify the thief.

My search has failed.
I finally return to my cold room–
And crash on the floor where shadows
hold me in the perfect silence
of the coffin….

“How dare you steal it?”
I screech, rolling on the floor
Faintness creeping on me.
People are gathering outside–
Wise people, who hate me!

The door is broken open
Strong hands take hold of mine,
Into which I dig my overgrown nails,
To bring out the scarlet…
“I am not mad!” My screams collide with the walls
Of the room where I lie chained!

I have stopped fighting.
I made understood my mistake,
In the regret of which I will now die–
There is a little cold in all of us.
I shouldn’t have gone looking for heat.

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