Friend Poem by Jackie Chou

I see the likes of you
where I'm at,
among the young nurses' aids-
the same arched brows,
large watery eyes,
pouty pink lips-
the same angel face,
above the devil's heart.

Poor me,
at the age of thirteen,
perched on a cardboard box
in my parent's store,
where you worked.
You asked me why
my eyes were downcast,
told me if you had my hair
you'd kill yourself.
Called me a nuisance
to the boys in school.

I was never hideous.
The glasses, the zits, the shabby clothes
was just a phase.
My stay in the care home
is only temporary.
You, I worry about.
One day you will be old
like the patients here.
Would you still like what you see
in the mirror?