Elephant Man, oh Elephant Man...

"Tis true my form is something odd,
But blaming me is blaming God.
Could I create myself anew,
I would not fail in pleasing you.
If I could reach from pole to pole,
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul,
The mind's the standard of the man."

A poem by Isaac Watts that Joseph Merrick would use to end his letters.

My reply:

Elephant man, oh Elephant Man
Thou art indeed excluded from any clan
Fairness had not been betrothed upon thee
As bizarre and twisted thou may be
Foul smelling skin and distorted joints
Malformed cells infecting every loins
Thus, no woman ever walked the earth
Would ever show thee a loving mirth

Indeed, thy true form is something odd
And blaming thee is blaming God
And living in thy world, being in thy form
Is like living inside a sad, tormented storm
Of which people walk round as to not pass by
And no vultures are even tempted to pry

But Elephant Man, oh Elephant Man
I feel thee, a heart too broken to mend
Living in a world where people see no more
Instead they stare, eyes empty of any lore
Dim-witted, narrow minds colliding vanity
Black-blooded, wickedness corrupting morality
Like lazy, glorious tyrants whose tongues tell lies
As they vanish behind the thin line that separates men from mice

Therefore, my dear Elephant Man
Thou may try to grasp the ocean with a span
Alas, there's no point in trying to please
Since humanity proveth to be nothing but a tease