In shadows cast by family ties,
A daughter's heart, a pariah's cries.
A tale unfolds, in verses draped,
Of trials faced, in darkness shaped.
"My whole heart," a weight inside,
Measured, deemed, and cast aside.
An old scar, an attempt to bleach,
Yet the stain of judgment does reach.
Deemed a crime, her heart on trial,
Waiting for redemption, mile by mile.
A heretic in the family's eyes,
In the rhythm of judgment, the pariah lies.
"Am I making sense?" she questions deeply,
In the silence of judgment, secrets seep.
How can truth stick in this cruel dance?
Waiting for the beat, she takes a chance.
A heretic, a child out of line,
In the family's narrative, a story is malign.
On trial, she stands, waiting for release,
For the beat of understanding, the melody of peace.
Miles away, her thoughts entwine,
A weary soul, tired of the familial line.
Crawling through judgments, fatigue sets in,
Yet she persists, the battle within.
"I'm not beat up by this yet,
Regret won't bind, nor will I forget."
In the dark since the day they met,
Fire, be the guide, help her to forget.
Chained and shackled in familial scorn,
Graveled path, a heretic born.
A pity they declare, never to return,
Yet in her heart, a flicker, a yearning. Burned but not buried, she rises again,
Tried and tested, scars etched like a pen.
Trying to reach out, in darkness and doubt,
Her whole heart, a flame, yearning to sprout.
A heretic's journey, a soul unrestrained,
In the rhythm of trials, resilience is maintained.
Ooh, the echoes of a pariah's plea,
In the symphony of pain, a yearning to be free.