My Deformity



This is one of several poems written about a poet's role of being the invisible voyeur. And yes. sometimes the world that shifts before our eyes can be a bit overwhelming. LMR

My Deformity
Each day I look inside
These mirrors for signs of
My deformity.
Is it there, inside my eyes?
Does it show within my spine?
Does my skin wear its palsy
As an ill-fitting mask that
Doesn't drape so gracefully upon this 
Each day it becomes this strange 
And complex ritual of 
Picking myself apart. You see
The real world can be
So harsh to we
Freaks of nature.
I have heard the click of
Their tongues and seen
Them close their doors or
Simply shun me
With their eyes.
Does it show, in my spine?
Does my skin wear its palsy?
Each day. I search inside
A mirror for signs of
My deformity.
Is it there?  Yes...
Can be such
A hideous
By L.M. Ross


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