Did I steal your face or did you give it to me?

All I know is your skin is quite fond of my skull,

and I have defiled your face

by adding pieces from the man you hate most in this world:

my father.

I replaced your straight nose with his Roman one,

and muddied your fair colors with his darkness.

But the worst marks don't come from him. They come from me.

For I have twisted your features into something new,

something mine.

I scarred your chin with my recklessness,

I filled your mouth with my words,

I turned your eyes away from the past and to the future.

Sometimes I wonder,

if I carved this face out with a scalpel,

and offered to return it,

would you want it back?

Oh, mother, would you even recognize it?