Brute Salvation Poem by Tate Blackman

How grotesque
How unseemly
The cheval glass portrays a man
Whom misshapen look fixedly upon myself
Where sanctity draws away
Delirium breaks against my grimace
All hopes of better lives transposed into aversion
How appalling
How deformed
My sights laid in puddles of Adam's ale
Mind's eye shifts into castles in air
Born of eternal rest
Created of mortal flesh
My still small voice whispers of despondency
How repugnant
How harrowing
Uncanny to the core
In reflection, I witness my own bereavement
Staring beyond recall
My speculation veers to that of theory
In submission, I conform to consider
How foul
How hard-featured
My design to incline humanity
To grasp jargon
Speak in expression to gain appreciation
Become preferred in congregation
Despite my devil component befitting for kindred
How sanguine
How blithe
I can strive towards acceptance
Despite my loathsome complexion
Show sentiment for this man
Enchantment for intuition
Talent in wisdom to gain compatriot
How bartered
How transformed
Rose-colored to be man