Escape

Where I was born, 
everyone felt entitled to torture me, to laugh at me. 
And so they did, wherever I went. 
Friends that I knew and strangers, 
neighbors as well as relatives, 
employees and salesmen, classmates and teachers,
priests and decorated officers.

When I grew up, I left. 
I left and forced my skin to peel.
I forced my face
to morph into something acceptable.

From trying too hard
the language got confused.
The pants became a tailcoat.
The shoes turned into sandals.
The belt was weaved elastic blue.
The hat was sewn in nylon.
The watch was made of steel.

Despite of all the changes, 
despite of how many years passed,
I always longed for returning home. 

When I finally returned, 
nobody knew who I was. 
They thought I was some stranger. 
They spoke to me in English, 
and said in Greek among themselves,

    What a strange man, it’s better if he leaves.

     {OK, this is sad. 
     But dude, you are strange.}