The Wrong Name (Poetry)

Just like his father some folks said
some swore he looked like her
the red-faced infant squirmed unsure
which look he’d most prefer

One eye was blue, the other brown
his head was nearly bald
but no one could decide for now
on what he should be called

They had a little book of names
his grandmother had bought
yet nothing seemed to fit the child
the final list was short

Eventually they boiled it down
to Vincent — come what may
the label stuck for all to see
the baby had no say

He grew to loathe the sound of it —
the way his father yelled
and spat the broken syllables
the nervous boy misspelled

At twelve he upped and ran away
he changed his name to Jack
and with it came a change of luck —
he never did look back

The years were kind — his life ran true
the small successes came
he found himself inside the shell
that echoed a proud name