“He never loves you, freak”; these lambs just shout.
They throw me skirts, and order me to weep.
They hold the shovels proud to show me clout.
“Oh crime, now you just breathe your last”, said creep.
While silence owns the nights, I find a night.
Oh, while the deluge sings, I try to cringe.
Oh, while I pray as Jay, the crows still slight.
While yearning shines, the hate performs the twinge.
Could blood redeem my sin, please leave my soul?
They view as stone, but soul is viewed as bones.
If they don’t want me to be lambs, I’m foal.
I find a night to sing; I stop the moan.
No need to mend this cloth, old but unique,
And let the soul just shows its pleasing peak.