Scars
Scars
This land knows not what I seek,
here I am frowned upon
the glares of rejection and hate like
a thousand whips lashing on
my arched back, my hopes for
recognition, for an equal voice,
for a place among these people who loom over me like gods
gone, never to return.
I would much rather have death, than
"exist" as an unwanted being,
my eyes rise to the heavens above
and I ponder these wounds in my heart and mind, screaming at me
telling me I'm wrong, while a deprived inner voice joins the cacophony
I've done nothing but be born upon this wretched world.
They pain me far, far more than
these sunken scars, biting upon my ivory skin
tell me, am I not human too?
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