At first glance, no one will call you a human.
Because, you aren't.

You have dragons scales on your belly
And your back is hunched like a broken bow.
Your hair is a chaos of colours –
Each strand a different shade,
Of all the reds and greens and greys and yellows imaginable –
Beautiful on their own,
But put together, the way it is on your head,
It just looks like...well, it's a mess!
Your hands are pruned
All the way up to your elbows;
Frail, wrinkled - exactly like that of a dying human,
But dyed blue, blue, blue; so dark it almost looks black – exactly like that of a demon.
You do not have legs,
Just have two steel stumps for support;
But there are gigantic wings, several feet wide, protruding out of your spineless back.
And your face – oh what can I say about that.
With transparent skin, your skull is visible to all who looks your way.
The white bony structure tattooed with maps, maps, maps of nonexistent lands,
And flowers and vines creep out of the orifices –
Almost like it's a world of its own.

At first glance, no one will call you a human,
Though you most definitely are one.