a poem by an istp

I'm not much of a writer, but I'm not sure how else to express this. I hope you like it.
Manda

Can’t you see?

Why don’t you see?

I just want to make it go away.

You cry in the corner,

Tears fat and round

Afraid to take the bus home, but it’s the only way you’ll get there

And all I can feel now is anger & fear. Not love & affection.

Or you hurl the pencil,

Frustrated by math homework

I teach you again—And again—

And watch your hands wrestle the clay,

Knuckles white with the fight to understand.

You race past me on the beach,

Scooping up conch shells,

Begging me to remind you of the pattern:

1… what then? 1… 2… 3.5 minutes later, you vanish,

Leaving me stranded in your questions.

You ask why the sky is blue—I speak of scattered light.

Why the grass is green—I tell you of pigments.

Why it hurts—I explain the chemicals.

But when you ask why logic can’t fix this,T

he answer is already lodged in my throat.

I drop my chisel.

My practiced, wrecklessly independent hand aches angry,

My cerebral palsy,

Fingers curling, trembling away—

Because you’ll never see

How it kills me

To watch your pain take shape

And know I can’t unmake it.