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?