My hands are rough with callouses
And my wrists sore from the bearing weight.
My knees creak as I rise from my seat
And ground is cold to my bare feet.
Skin marred with scars
And a soul just as mottled.
A past with more dark
Than light in its memories.
The albatross hangs round my neck,
And we share a name: Unwanted.

Who will want me?
Who will love me?