Frankie's Lament

Frankie’s Lament

No one knows, nor dares to say,
What curse or hand, on that dark day,
Awoke me from the black abyss,
To find my fate was forged like this.

A gasp of breath—my first, my last—
A whisper of a broken past.
Yet lips were bound with jagged thread,
And in my mind, a voice of dread:

"Where am I? What is this place?
Why does horror mark my face?
Why am I bare, so cold, alone?
Was I created? Was I cloned?"

A muffled cry, a trembling hand,
No soul to hear, no voice to stand.
With burning pain, I pulled the thread,
And let my voice speak for the dead.

"Is there someone? Is there light?
Can you tell me of my plight?"
But silence pressed like stone on stone,
And in the dark, I stood—alone.

A mirror gleamed in silver mist,
A specter trapped, its fate dismissed.
A monstrous form, a stitched disguise,
A stranger in my hollowed eyes.

"What am I? What wretched being
Stares back at me, unworthy, seeing?"


---

Through moonlit streets, I took my flight,
A shadow swallowed by the night.
Yet though I slunk where none could spy,
A child beheld and shrieked a cry.

"Look, dear mother, look at him!"
His face curled up in scornful grin.
A finger raised, a dagger’s point—
And so, I fled, my soul disjoint.

I ran until my breath was dust,
My heart a weight of aching rust.
And in that dark, my sorrow grew:
"If I can't bear myself—who could?"

But then—a flicker, red and gold,
A tattered flyer, torn and old.
"The circus comes! A show of wonder!
The lost, the strange, the torn asunder."

I knew not why, but still I yearned—
To find this place where odd ones turned.


---

Through whispers cold and gazes cruel,
I begged for guidance, played the fool.
Until, at last, a voice rang true—
A woman bearded, strong of view.

"You seek the circus? Then come with me,"
"You’ll find your home among the free."
She did not flinch, nor did she stare,
She saw my soul was stripped and bare.

And through the velvet, candle’s glow,
I met the ones the world said No.
The tall, the small, the lost, the damned,
The ones whom Fate had cursed and crammed.

Yet here, among the so-called freaks,
I found the voice my spirit seeks.
A place where scars did not define,
Where I could claim a name as mine.

Sophie smiled, her voice like dawn,
"They call us freaks, but they are wrong.
For sameness makes them blind and weak—
We are not freaks—we are unique."

I bowed my head, my heart unchained,
For in her words, no hate remained.
She saw the wretch, she saw the man,
And took my trembling, battered hand.


---

And now, when mirrors catch my sight,
I see beyond the mask of fright.
For in my eyes, no horror dwells—
But one who lived to love himself.

So take my hand, if you are lost,
If cruel fate has left you tossed.
For when I look inside of you,
I see a heart still strong and true.

And in the dark, when all seems wrong,
You’ll find your place where you belong.