Frankenstein's Monster Poem

More about Frankenstein's Monster Poem

A creature stitched from pieces rare,
With bolts that sparked and wild hair.
A monster made with man's own hand,
In a castle's gloom, on foreign land.
With yellowed eyes and stitched-up skin,
He awoke to a world so grim.
Rejected by his maker's fright,
He wandered, lost in endless night.
With a heart that longed for love and care,
But met with screams and anguished stare.
He sought acceptance, but was spurned,
For his monstrous form left hearts that yearned.
He roamed the mountains, valleys low,
A soul so tortured, filled with woe.
Misunderstood, feared, and shunned,
His humanity, all but undone.
Yet deep inside, a spark did burn,
A longing for a chance to learn.
To show the world his gentle heart,
And prove he was more than just a part.
In the end, a tragic fate,
For a creature born from dark estate.
A victim of humanity's fear,
A lonely soul that shed a tear.
So, let us remember Frankenstein's plight,
A tale of sorrow, in the night.
For the monster born of man's desire,
A tragic figure, lost in fire.