One Memory
I sit in a pushchair, it is my cage
All around me I see only rage
It’s my entire fault, I am to blame,
Why did they even give me a name?
My name is Mark, not slug or sin,
Should I really be in the bin?
It’s what she wanted after all
I was just a white slime ball.
The harness held me so secure
It cut my skin, and made me sore
With bandaged hands, I sat and cried
I was good, I really tried
A devil child, was what they said
A six fingered freak that should be dead
That