There was once a boy...

There was once a boy.
He could have been any boy, really.
He used to look at himself in the mirror,
and pretend to be
the emperor
a soldier
a conquerer.
Anyone but himself.

He hated himself. Hated
the shape of his nose
the look of his clothes
the slant of his eyes.
He'd pitifully cry,
and the other boys would laugh.

And then, alone,
he'd rage in anger,
'When I grow up,
I'll show them I'm a man
I'll show them all
one-hundred-feet-tall I stand,
made of iron and flint and rock.
They'll all listen to me -
they will not mock.

I'll make my enemies
sweat in their sheets.
No! Piss-soaked nightmares
of my armies.

I will shake sleeping babies awake
with the quake
of my sneeze.
Whole villages of infants wailing,
parents on no sleep.

And women will respect me -
or I will make them.
And if my subjects aren't
quietly shaking
I will shake them.

Only, he never thought
those thoughts.
He thought only,
Why me? Why
am I so bad?
Why can't I
just please my dad?
I just want a hug.
I just want
some love.
For someone to tell me
that I'm a good kid.

But they never did.
No one ever did.
And now
they're all dead.