The Artist

When he started this drawing,
My face was roughly smashed like a squeezed apple.
I was ugly like owl.
My legs were weak like the legs of mosquitoes.
I saw his mastery hands drawing me like a talented artist.
When he started this drawing,
My face was like a faceless clownish toy,
I was in ghetto
broken
waning
Wearing a false face.
I had wrinkles on my nostalgic face,
I saw his merciful hands drawing a man.