(Here is a poem I wrote a few years ago. It is, of course, directly influenced by The Elephant Man.)
Help me. My master has put me in the cage again. The monkey screams. The darkness always envelops me. A freak. The monster I am. People come from miles around. I am educated. My deformity makes them think otherwise. Help me. I am a man. The master makes his money. I see it. I help him, yet he gives nothing to me. He lives, not concerned with me. But I provide for him. Ungrateful. I am shuffled to the side. I am sick. Dying. Please, please help me.
I AM NOT A FREAK!!
I am a human being.
He looks ill. Pathetic. I wonder how his life has been. How is the life of a circus freak? That can’t be a politically correct term. His sad eyes connect with mine, sending the pain of a lifetime of misery. His master doesn’t look very compassionate. Does he care more about the man or the money the man brings in for him? Others are disgusted, I'm saddened. He does not deserve this life. There is nothing any man could have possibly have done to be treated like he is. Can I save him? Someone should.
