Nobody Rewritten

I was always told as a child I had a lucky face. A bone structure that resembled somebody famous. ‘There’s something about you kid, you’re different,’ they said. ‘I don’t know what it is but you’re different.’ I was force fed this bullshit Until it oozed out of me from every pore. The stench of it Worse than a French whore. And now that the lines are etched a little deeper, And the hair a little thinner, And the waist a little broader, And the pill a little stronger, And the reflection in the mirror a little less clearer. I finally realised with one more bout of depression That I wasn’t anybody at all. Not even myself. The monster I had created had destroyed me. No ego. No pity. No self- indulgence. Not even any ashes were left. I was free. I was nobody.