Under A Dusk Sky

SING A SONG, BASTARD CHILD

•LOATH OF BIRTH•

Aftermath of my disaster—
Never perceived by my mother,
Never cherished by my father;
Never loved by any other—people I met, strangers not echt.

Birthed once, live many years,
And live until a single death—
Would come to take the life I have
So futile like how less I'm loved, like how less I've given refuge.

Here I stop to think again,
And sit so still until I fall—
Fall against the soft mattress
And sleep to dream a dreamer’s dream—dream a dream I never dream.

I stood alone, a rayless space,
A quiet void; a night’s embrace.
A rope so tight, coiled round my neck,
I told myself, "Be still my heart, don’t halt a beat, don’t skip a sound."

A virile voice came, resonating,
Calling my name in a void,
I was afraid he might found me
And ask what kind of son is me, and flash me what son shall I be.

Methought of nothing but a dream,
No, not a dream, a nightmare seemed—
To loath me, that it wished me dead;
I barely woke and saw a light, and hear a sound—a lullaby.

The melodies are sweet and slow
Like honey poured to sweeten tea;
An effete voice, familiar sound
The words she spoke, warm and golden like the cockcrow—rising sun!

Fruition sat in front of me—
“My mother sang that song for me.”
Merely I spoke words of fire,
Burning me with so much ire, aching for my long lost mother.

Knife is a reminiscence
That ran through me, cutting my flesh—
Until I drown into my blood,
Till I run dry, till I lost breath, till I would cry and scream his name—

“Curse my father, he shall die!
Curse him till his eyes would cry—
The blood that made him live his life,
The blood that flows within me, please, I never want that filth within me!”

A sudden voice dawned in my ears,
“Sing a song, you bastard child.”
An unknown voice I, not once, hear,
“Forget that foul father of yours, sing a song, bastard child—
 
A song a mother once sing for—
Her child to sleep in pacific.”
I always scorn my existence,
Yet it was worth to live for once, to live, and sing like my mother once.

I woke again, and think again,
What dream had I dreamed again?
What life did I saw again?
What life did I know nothing of, what life did I loath a birth?

Here I sit and think again
And sit so still until I wake
And see a light, and feel a flight—
Of thoughts to dream a dreamer’s dream—dream a dream I never dream.

Live a life of everlasting
Dreams I never dreamed before,
And that only birth I loath
Is nothing but the birth of feelings I have never felt before.

Feelings I felt for a beau
For belles are not good with rondeau.
Aftermath of my disaster
Never cherished by my mother, never cherished by my father—
 
For methought to keep it all,
Keep it all just to myself,
Lest that I'd put shame on them
That I am but a shame to them, a child they never want me be.

Then the dream I had, resurfaced
“Bastard child!” It dawned again,
I delved into the void to see—
The only thing that was just me, a mirror showing, only me!