Wounded

Perhaps my Name will change again
And pity will flood their eyes. 
Maybe my gaze will scream, “I’m fine!”
While they shake their heads
 and smile. 

Who will I become? What new
Label will crawl into my blood
What stamp will march across my face 
And leave its inky, staining trace
What wrong allele now needs to be healed?

I burrow into sleep until the great reveal.