Frankenstein

I don't know you because I can only see a monster,
you don't know me because
you can only see
what you always wanted me to become.

I am not the person your torment tried to create,
I am worse.
I am intimidated, fatigued, plagued,
and crucified inside and out
because of your expectations.

I am your creation to which you'd rather
overlook, discard, and deny.
Like a Frankenstein on the surgeon's table
left to rot,
your utterance saturates
my lifeless body.

My hoarse voice, my broken words, are unclear
as you look in the mirror.
Perfection stares back at you,
as dirt and filth tarnish me:
You can not see, I can not reveal.

My bed is made, the shades are drawn,
I obediently lie down.