Hidden in a world of make believe,
tucked away in imagination
a disgrace to her own kind,
with no one's compensation
They judged her unholy,
bruised with shame and scorn
She tried to speak out,
but found herself torn
So she masked her hurt with anger,
No one could have felt her pain
Her outside rough and bitter,
Her inside filled with ache
Though she covered her wounds,
they began to fester and rot,
and at the egde of life and death,
her unclean life has come to naught
So she goes to place they forbode,
the place they warned her against,
for perhaps the unholy will have more mercy,
and she will find a place to rest...~ 'Unseelie', by Amy Patt
