John Merrick

That was the name of the Elephant Man.

That is who she sees in every one of her self-realizing reflections.
Doesn't even know why she bothers.

All she can see is a monster in eyeliner. Trying to pretend she's a human.

She doesn't know how people cannot just vomit at the very sight of her.

Why they would even want to talk to her.

The only way she can be pretty, she thinks with eyes perpetually
grounded, is if her face were to blossom like an exit wound.

© Branden Palomo

(an entry to this year's RN&R fiction contest...)

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