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Personal Note:

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Poem

Eventually, you get used to it:
Every time you walk into a room
And all eyes turn to glare at your noticeable difference.

They can’t help but gasp and raise their
Hands to cover their mouth
As if I wouldn’t notice their jaws
Dropping to the floor.

I used to shy away from their stares
And quickly scurry to hide in the dark
Shadows around the edges of the room.

Now, I look them directly in the eyes
And give a nod of recognition
And treat their stares as gazes of admiration
Even knowing they are appalled by my deformity.

But, really, who is deformed?

A man with two-eyes is deformed in a Cyclops convention.
Standing on two feet would be a deformity in a world full of Centaurs.
In a universe of bald people, that one who requires shampoo would be the odd ball.

I defy their stares, their gawks, and their looks of pity.
My difference, I dare say, sets me apart from your deformed normalcy.

I hold my head up high and sit in the most prominent position in the room.

Proud of my difference – for it gives me a perspective on things that
You can never achieve.

I am unique;
I do not envy those who are clones of what society considers the perfect shape and form.

Stare if you will
Your jealousy, as I choose to see it, is unbecoming and yet flattering.

Thank you for noticing that I am different.  
I am sure no one watched your every step when you entered the room.

And now, you may feel sorry for yourselves instead.

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