“Disfigured Love”

Theresa McMillan

Longing for love is all I have known

As I get older I feel so alone.

Boyfriends and girlfriends are all around me,

But I’m just one, you see.

It’s hard coming home and there’s nobody there,

No one who will be able to share and care;

I know that guys don’t think much of a woman like me

With disfigured hands and feet and an unusual face

To them I’m nothing more than a disgrace!

They don’t get to see the woman inside;

They see the outside which makes them to run and hide

Why is it so hard to love someone with disfigurements?

Why does perfection always include requirements?

The body with an appealing face is better than a heart that’s true.

I can’t change my body or my face;

It seems society lives on the surface.

It’s the deep things they can’t embrace-

They have “No time!” for discovering gold

When what they want is aesthetically made to be sold,

Disfigured love is what they crave

Love that is shallow and shines

But really is gritty and ugly

That has been raised from the grave

Time will expose disfigured love

But at what cost?

Will people with hidden treasure ever be discovered or always remain lost?