the dread of being born again

If not for the dread of being born again,

I would drive cold steel deep into my heart and watch the world fade

But the thought of returning uglier

more cursed in form

is a terror beyond the grave

Nothing is worse than to be born

unworthy,

to wear the mark of nature’s contempt

Nature herself spat me onto a soil

I will never name as home

I am no chosen daughter

my skin dark as the field slave

burnt beneath the vengeful sun,

my body forged in labor,

yet denied glory.