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Bastard Child
October 19, 2012
Alone in company I stand,
As black contrasts with white,
While conversation continues unabated,
unaware,
of the faux pas that I am.
Snide looks cut through the air between them and me;
draw the attention from the crowd,
They've started the ugly rumor again,
The piercing fact that cuts at my existence.
Dark corridors are where I sleep
Hard floors.
Unwanted.
I play with the muses in the dark and in the silence.
I'm cold.
I'm alone.
© Molly L., Phoenix, AZ
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