A contribution to Ronovan’s decima challenge 38, with Bash as the prompt word on rhyme line D.
We often find ourselves ashamed
knowing we're members of a race
that barely shows a human face,
our consciousness twisted and maimed.
Uneulogised, unknown, unnamed,
the heroes of our human kin
retain this knowledge in their skin;
the reddening of cheeks abashed,
confounded dreams and ideals dashed,
condemned to darkness held within.