They only proclaimed it's a legacy,
And I was marked in kinless marks.
Shedding my fresh blood with ecstasy,
What a cheek with landmarks?

I thought it's a benefiting bequest,
Until I entered a realm of baron,
The atmosphere turned to jest.
And I perceived myself as a maron.

The identity may seem wild,
But it's an endowment to be a black,
Whose way of life is purely mild.
With a ravishing pattern in a cheek.

© ALAKAMUIDEEN