The summer day is so bright and wonderful
that I will suppress the beast in me. I can
no longer say it is my parents fault that
I have these scars of old. My life, I say,
was unusual from those on my suburban
street. These children with their ducks in
their mothers kitchen and pretty pink
bedspreads were not like me. I had my
baby chest and an awful yellow spread.
This is when my shame came to be real.
When I discovered that I lived beneath
others. And then the beast was born.
Copyright 12-25-2008 Sarah Sisson
Sarah Sisson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beast-was-born/
