CURSE OF ILLEGITIMACY

ILLEGITIMATE

She was cold when she was born,

Dead to the world but numb to be sworn.

She was cold when she grew up,

Daunted, scarred and yet usurped.

She was cold when all raged high,

Pointed to her with groaning sigh.

She was cold, calm and condemned,

And all murmured she’s insane.

Bore she all with smiling fear,

Lest the scars show up too near.

Bore she all with patient heart,

Without knowing what’s her dirt.

Often wondered the timid she,

“A deadly crime I’ve done might be.”

Too scared to ask or express,

She would but deep suppress.

The midnight scar would shout to ask

“Why the cruel world wore such musk?”

Once when she was put to stake,

Spoke she out with utmost rage,

“Beat me, hurt me let me break,

But I’m illegitimate, whose mistake?”