Look At Me

By Warren Peace

Look at me.

Please.

What do you see?

Do you see what everyone else sees?

Do you see the big, dangerous looking son of Baron Battle? Do you paint me with the same dark brush that colors my father?

I have never done anything, yet I am looked upon with fear…disdain…even hatred.

I am tall and strong. I have control over fire. I am looked upon as even more dangerous.

I am seen as a destroyer because of my gift…because of my curse.

My features are dark, my hair the color of shadows and blood. Some say this is an outward expression of what is within me.

They are right.

I am filled with darkness, but not the kind they think.

My darkness is from sadness…loneliness…fear.

I am as afraid of myself as everyone else is afraid of me. Am I also evil…destructive…insane? I do not know. Everyone else seems to, but I do not.

Look at me.

Please look at me.

Speak to me.

Please.

What would you say?

Would you mock me…spurn me…laugh at me?

Would you cry out in fear? Would you beg me to go away…to leave you alone?

I am intelligent. I read constantly. Books have been one of my few companions all my life.

I know poetry. I have read so much and I can recite all of it. I have written some of my own.

I know many languages. I have taught myself to speak them all fluently.

I have no one to share my knowledge with…no one to hear my words.

No one will talk with me. No one will speak to me. No one will listen to me.

Speak to me.

Please speak to me.

Touch me.

Please.

What would you do?

Would you strike me? Slap my face?

Would you caress it?

Would you take my hand and hold it?

I am very strong. I can be so gentle.

I can smash concrete to powder, yet I could stroke your hair with a touch as light as that of a spring breeze.

I have never had intimate contact with anyone.

They fear my touch…fear my flames may burn them.

But I would never burn them. The only flames are the ones in my heart.

My heart burns…it aches for someone to touch me.

Touch me.

Please touch me.

Love me.

Please.

Could you love me?

Could you tear through all the layers built around me, both by others and by myself?

Could you reach out to the scared and lonely soul within the powerful form?

My mother tells me that I am a product of love.

But I know I am a monster…a demon…the spawn of Lucifer himself.

Yet what is a demon but once an angel that knew only love…and now desires it again?

No, I do not desire love.

I crave it…hunger for it…thirst for it…yearn for it with all my soul.

Could you love me?

Love me.

Please love me.

Please.