Born Of Silence, Bound In Night Poem by Zahrin Nazah

Sometimes I move as though in borrowed skin—
A human shape that never quite fits right;
At times a beast, half-formed in ash and sin,
Unseen beneath the ruins of the night.
Fate sets me in its jaws and holds me still,
Where breath is thin, and hope is cold and small;
A muted spark resisting iron will,
A single nerve that trembles not to fall.

I dream of beasts with softer destinies—
The pampered cat, the dog in gentle chains;
While I wear ropes no living eye can see,
A leash of sorrow knotted through my veins.

No man, nor woman—something in between,
A fading creature none have ever seen.