Looking in the mirror,
Harry didn't like what he saw.
The cheeks of his mother,
the eyes of his father,
as each day crashed around him,
the future stood revealed.
He was turning into his parents.
The final disappointment.
Stepping out of the shower,
Harry
stared at himself.
His hairline receding, a slight overbite,
he picked up the razor to begin his shaving and thought.
I
wish I was different.
I wish I was stronger.
I wish I was thinner.
I wish I didn't have this nose.
These ears that stick out remind me of my father,
and I don't want to be reminded at all.
The final disappointment.
Harry looked in the mirror,
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh,
and with a quick swipe,
lopped off
his nose.
And happy with that,
he made a slice where his chin was.
He'd always wanted a dimple.
The end of all illusion.
Then peering down, straight between his legs,
Harry thought of the range of possibilities.
A new face, a new life,
no memories of the past.
And then he slid his throat from ear to ear.
Harry woke up with a cough.
The stitches made him wince.
A doctor smiled at him from
somewhere across the room.
Son,
we saved your life,
but you'll never look the same.
And when he heard that,
Harry had a laugh.
When he heard that, Harry had a laugh.
Although it hurt, Harry had a laugh.
The final disappointment.