I've never been a daughter;
that gift was not intended
for a homeless heart.
I am a stranger to my father
as he is to himself.
This hole,filled with helpless
violence, a drinking well packed
with quarry stones;
what was I when I was born
and who must love me? When
will I be free to love?
Here I am, a solitary tree,
a barren field, a dying bird
forgotten by the unseen forces
that brought me here to live.
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