Once

You say I have six months
Until you deem me a pariah?
There is no right, no mastery
Existing over the other
That justifies those words.
By the curve of your spine,
Your supple yet strong arms,
You are a masterpiece
Am I to be the forgotten
Picture of the unfortunate leper?
Should my back be unshapely,
My arms disproportionate,
My mind is thus made also?
Your brain is full of the buzzing
Bees of blindness.
To learn your ways I must
Cut ties with all I am familiar with?
Your hypocritical slander turns
My ears to blood,
My mind to unfathomable mush.
And to think I once found you cherishable.