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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Wriiten through the eyes of a man who suffers everyday. It is complete fiction but hopefully you when learn from it

Submitted: February 09, 2007

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Submitted: February 09, 2007




Is it because I am disfigured?

Why people wont see behind my eyes

To see the person who live inside

When they look at me they are shocked

Disgusted at what they see

Reeling back in horror they always flee


I would run after them but what is the point

I am already disfigured

I don't need to be classed a nut


Never asking for this disfigurement

It was given to me by my mother

Like I choose it from the first moment I could speak


I wasn't a bad child there was just a screw lose in my mum

With no father around to tighten it

I would pay for being his remains


It started of with hit after hit

Always when I said I love you


Then one night after a couple of bottles

The devil replaced my mum

Going thorough the kitchen draw shouting

Should I use the knives or the meat cleaver?

No wait the paraffin and lighter

She shouted with a strange glee


I am coming for you

You little basted

She reached in to my bed grabbing me so tight

Tying me to my bedpost she poured the paraffin


Clicking the lighter she sobbed saying why do you look like him so

Throwing the light to the ground those yellow flames did begin to grow

My mother burned first

Her screams still fresh in my ears till this day

My arm burnt first

I just watched as my pj's had dancing flames travelling along

The pain was intense, screaming and crying my face began to melt.


To this day I don't know how I survived

Rescued by a fireman

Now all that remains is this disfigured man

The memories refreshed every time I look in the mirror


Each time you reel back in horror

So do me a favour

Get to know the man not the disfigurement

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