Before I even start I must thank one person, and I think it would be better if I thank her by her real name. So thanks Rowena. She's an amazing person, and after talking to her for just two hours, I knew I had to write this. Any of you who have kept up to date with my posts will recognize this as another sonnet. But, as usual to tell of some background information. Firstly, nemo is Latin, translating as no-one. (If any of you have spoke to Rolo, you'll know that is the furthest thing from the truth.) Secondly, she's suffered a lot of hardship, and she's came through it as a better and stronger person. Thirdly, and I do not hesitate to tell you this, Rowena is one of the special people in the world. She looks at people's problems, and will always do her best to help them. People like her, are few and far between. But, her gift (or curse) was neglected. People were happy for her to help, but we're ridiculous enough not to realise how special she was. I won't say this poem reflects the way she felt, because I don't know if it was. I do know however, that her story, is the basis of this poem. I'll ask you all to enjoy, . But I ask her, to like it, most of all. Without her it wouldn't have existed. Enjoy.
Taunts are but salt in the wound, cutting flesh.
I am a servant, nameless, to many
I heal your hurts - mine are bitterly fresh.
I am your saver; don't glance, throw a penny.
We are a breed whom are rare to this earth
Yet you will torture and play with the flame.
Fires can burn - known by a child since birth.
All that I ask is you give me name.
I ache as a being, brought up apart.
I feel sheer longing in every bone,
Is there no title that you would impart?
Then I'll make choices, a name of my own.
I was no one with nowhere to go
But I am no-one, for I am Nemo.
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