In the pool of diversity
I looked at my reflection
how shallow I was.
I saw the child on a leash
all the women I swore to myself
were less attractive
the girl with the rainbow-hued hair
and her boyfriend in camouflage
the woman whose eyes didn't quite align.
I saw the man--
if you would even call it that--
wit the skin melting off his face,
one arm a prosthetic hook
and the other, severed knobs.
I saw his hair--straw, false, doll-like
eyes that had deteriorated into salmon-colored beads.
My first thought:
And as I secretly prayed
to the god I don't have
that I would not be forced into contact with that man,
I am the one who is