The Mark

This is a poem based from my story "The Ties That Bind." If you're not familiar with the story, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

I bear the mark in my wrist.
I can't buy or sell without it.
Without it, I don't exist.

The numbers 666 are not marked on me;
though some people would say I do.
They would say I am part demon.

I hear others' thoughts,
make things fly,
see into their souls.

I bear the mark of being
different,
special,
a freak,
gifted,
whatever label you want to give me.

I mark myself as
homo sapiens,
human,
a person,
an individual,
just another human being.

I bear the mark of being me.

You bear the mark of accepting that.