He was a poor boy from an orphanage nearby.
The only thing he had left from his parents was a nasty scar.
Strangely, he did not hate them for it,
he wore it with pride,
though the other kids laughed when he did.
Compared to the others from this orphanage,
even though the scar covered half of his face,
he wasn’t the monster in this monstrous place.
He had a pure heart, for inside there was hope,
that once he will find his parents.
Only this helped him cope
with the torture his beloved scar
has brought upon him so far.
The years went by,
as they always do,
and from the boy was a man
(and a handsome man, too.)
The scar remained the same, though,
as if untouched by time
but the man didn’t mind
“staying the same, well, that’s not a crime”.
You might even say he was thankful for it;
if the scar was the same as when he was a kid,
his parents would know that it’s really him, their baby, their son.
Suddenly, his time at the orphanage was done.
But when tomorrow came and they had to let him go,
they surprised him, when they wanted to know;
whether he had a name.
And when he said no, they thought for a bit,
then decided to call him John Doe.
So with a new name and an old scar,
he left for the city he knew was far
and full of people afraid of such things as a scar,
for it makes others see how different they are.
But he felt bold, when he left for the station,
because he wasn’t scared of the population.
By the time he reached the city,
for the first time now, he met pity,
wondering glances that came his way,
but when he returned them they glanced away.
Yet nothing could stop him,
not the looks, not the shame,
he was looking for his parents
not for someone to blame.
The scar was his proof and his motivation,
so he headed for the town hall with no hesitation.
It took them a while there to find the right place
but giving up, well, that wasn’t his case.
So with an address in his hands and good luck, too,
he left the town hall and his eagerness grew.
…Excited but nervous, ready as well,
he reached out his hand and rang the bell.
But what a surprise when the door opened wide
and a little woman stood inside.
It wasn’t his mother,
that he could tell,
he felt it in his heart and in every cell.
He remained polite, though, and asked if she knew
of a couple, that should live here, too.
He introduced himself as an old friend,
for he wasn’t sure she would understand.
The woman shook her head
and told him with regret,
that the people who lived here were long long dead.
Killed by a fire which burnt down the flat.
No one survived but a baby, she said.
When he heard those words, he lost his breath,
he fell to his knees and prayed for death.
He lost his purpose, his only goal
and it broke his soul
and his heart as well,
he was a man no more,
just an empty shell.
With a hideous scar that spoiled his face,
he was an orphan who belonged no place…
Suddenly, a calm voice spoke,
it caressed his ears,
made his lips shake
and his eyes fill with tears.
It belonged to a girl with velvet black hair,
she made him feel better just standing there,
with her hand on his shoulder and her words filling the air.
And it was then and there he fell in love with her.
They left together and never looked back,
she showed him things no one’s life should lack.
And although their paths had parted one day,
the love she planted in his heart did stay.
In ten years’ time, life changed a great deal;
he had a son, whom he loved much
and a perfect life, if there is such.
He was happy now.
And more than that,
though it took a decade,
the scar on his face began to fade.
As well as the pain that possessed his heart
before he let go of his painful start.
The scar lost its colour but it was clear as day,
it will never completely fade away.
John Doe was more than fine with this,
“it isn’t just a scar, that scar of his,
it serves as a reminder of who he is.”
The poor boy from the orphanage nearby
was poor no more
and this was why.
I wasn't completely sure if I was writing a poem or a short story...but it rhymes so here it is