Dark Voice
A voice whispers in the dark.
Is it coming from outside
or inside?
He searches frantically to find the source.
It tells him to do horrid things—
unimaginable things.
He tries to fend it off.
But it claims to be of divine origin,
sent by God
to do its bidding.
He’s certain the voice is coming from inside.
It’s coming from within—
Is he mad?
Devoid of sense—
Is this heavenly providence?
To execute God’s will—
Is this the work of the biloquist?
Playing a cruel joke.
Why would God tell him to slay his family?
Maybe God is the one playing the cruel joke.
But who is he to question God?
Maybe he truly is a madman,
rightfully locked up.
The Creature’s Lament
I call myself Adam,
for you did not name me.
I guess that makes you God,
since you created me.
But God would never treat his children like this.
Even when they disobeyed him
he did not hate them.
Yet you’ve abhorred me since the moment you brought me to life.
My only request is that you make an Eve for me
so we could live together in Eden.
But you say there aren’t any ribs available.
Your grave-digging days are over.
You banish me from your sight,
abandon me.
Exclaiming I am your Original Sin.
But what have I to atone for?
What have I done that makes me so horrible?
Why must I seek redemption?
Why must I be alone?
I am exactly how you created me.
Yet you scorn me.
At least Rappaccini named his daughter
before he doomed poor Beatrice
to a life of solitude and loneliness.
Leaving only death and disaster in her wake.
You never named me,
But they call me your monster.
The abhuman compounded with Frankenstein.
I may never be rid of you,
but I take joy in the fact that you
will also never be rid of me.
One of You
Why did you make me so?
Chants echo, saying
deformed
ugly
unnatural
And follow me everywhere I go
Faces fill with horror upon seeing me
Children are shielded and hidden
From the mere suggestion of my being
Weapons are wielded to purge the world of me
But I am exactly as I was created
In Frankenstein’s image
I didn’t ask to be
I don’t have a mother
And was not born as you were
But I am made from humans
I am the amalgamation of your bodies
How can you say I’m not one of you
When I am of you all?
Your flesh
Your bones
Your ideas and teachings
We are kin
Through and through
Only I look different
But I want the same things
A home
A partner
Happiness
Why am I denied what you all are given freely?
Why am I scorned for no fault of my own?
There’s nothing wrong with me
There never was
I am a being with desires and a heart
Just as you are
Take up your issues with Frankenstein
And let me be
That’s all I’m asking for
That’s all I’ve ever asked for
Anna Samson (they/she) is a desi, queer, disabled writer living in Mississauga, Ontario. Anna began writing poetry to cope with becoming disabled and has expanded into writing about social justice, love, and friendship. In their free time, Anna likes to read, write, and hang out with their pets.
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