Frankenstein’s monster always knew
he was different from other children.
Since he was a toddler in pre-k,
other kids would tease him,
for he had green vertebrae peeking
from the back of his neck and
and a hardware store full
of oil and bolts hidden away in
the crevices of his joints.
Frankie was a smart Cookie Monster though
(from watching plenty of Sesame Street),
and knew that their meanness
was brought to him by the letter “insecurity”
and the number “zero role models at home,”
so he forgave easily.
He was such a brilliant boy
that Frankie realized his face
wasn’t the only anomaly
barely attached to his body.
The supernatural power
that made him stand out:
he could count all the way
to “Imaginary friends” and back again
He journeyed there until he found
a gang of playmates to protect him
from the things his classmates would say,
like a dangerous, vampire,
guardian angel named Silvia
or a Cheshire acorn-eater
who could smile away the pain.
After leveling up in grades,
the young monster became too old
to be saved by
figments of his imagination.
Instead, he graduated into the man
his classmates would accept.
He began to wear perfume and deodorant
to overpower the necrotic scent of his skin
and he’d imitate other students;
mutating his wants and desires
to suit theirs, all the while
ignoring his true nature.
Frankenstein’s monster kept
a grave secret hidden
until his undying day.
Not that he was assembled from
the remains of abnormal brains
from failed graverobbing,
but that he was afraid to
come out as gay.
And when he breathed his final
reanimated breath, his only regret:
Frankie let the anger of other people
dictate his dreams