If pain paralysed,
My anatomy would be dead,
If sorrow killed,
Buried centuries ago, I would be,
If insults displayed on the face,
Mine would have shrinked.

Since I was born,
I have known no peace,
What killed me wasn't the knife sinking in me,
What killed me was the person who held the knife,
My road has always been dusty and rough,
Bear footed I have managed.

Despised by my own I have,
Contempt was served so hot,
A downfall for me they all craved,
Having done no one any wrong,
They all treated me with pregnant evil,
Pressing on I did, tears queching my thirst.

I offered my back for them to step,
They still claimed it wasn't flat enough,
Holding no grudge I tried so hard,
Hanging it loose I did so terribly,
My heart has many wrinkles but never died,
For what couldn't kill me, made me this stronger.