Society’s Model

I am who I was then

They sit and stare

at me with

observant curiosity

Their eyes stopping

and glaring at

every imperfection

The look of a

shocked defiance

on my face

It does not

deter them

They seem

entertained

To them, I am

a subject not

worth empathizing

with

Future generations

will see me and

offer me a brief

bit of sympathy

Marveling at the

wonder that could

have been

Had I not taken

that road,

would I have been

this object of

rejected affection?

The answer, while

welcome frightens

me

In some way,

I am admired

Someone notices

me now

Someone cares