Forsaken Poem by jathin aka jesuzz

Is being alive a sin?
Is being born a sin?
The answer for all, by all, No
Then why the distinction, the mark?
Not on color nor on creed
For the answer so clear yet unspoken
The forsaken are born with death, lurking
In their blood, flowing to keep them alive


For those who engender them
They are a sign of guilt, a reminder of
Either a worst past or unchanged present
For the society they are neo-lepers, people to be
Isolated, to be avoided, to be forsaken.

Their hearts ne’er got the warmth of love nor
A breeze of care and affection
They had in plenty sympathy and chastise
Hatred and fear. Their
Ignominy of being forgotten, their hearts
Which parched for love remains unknown in heart?
Their eyes pleaded love; their friends suffocated
In love even the black sheep were cared but not them
For they are different.


To them petty wishes, childish thoughts, Forbidden
Doors of society closed on face, those of words
Pricked their path, beds of nail far better
May they regret or remorse for what they are
Their past is sealed, their future, bleak
Touched only by rays of sun but not of hope
Those with any hope hardly touched.

Why? The lenity my lord!
I beg, I ask, I cry
Why make them bleed, when you can’t heal
Why make them cry, when you can’t comfort
My lord your children weep
Hear their cries.
Care the Forsaken.