Stitched Apart

Stitched together I move with a limp

One leg long, the other short

One saw the sun, while the other stayed hidden

Neither matched the arms I was given

Since my resurrection I have worn loose fitted clothing

Those patched to lengthen life with a handy bit of sewing

I am reminded with every walk to the mirror how much I resemble those fabrics

And how they do a poor job of helping me avoid being the inspiration for theatrics

The worst is my face

No eye, nor ear, nor eyebrow appear symmetric

My lips are even cracked and crooked with different shades

I started as a drawing, but an artist's and butcher's similarities always seem to stray

So, I do what any monster would to avoid the mobs

Cover what makes me different and talk as if I am one of them, the fleshy snobs

Oh, but on this day of spooky fright I can show my body off tonight

For no mask is needed, no shield, no cloak

I can be me, misshapen and misrepresented, and for that I am stoked

I long for a time where my identity is not a disguise all year round

But for now, I will take this autumn night as my own and limp away with my upside-down frown