"Black Diamond" is the title of my book that am still working on.
Out of it I bring out this poem

Black Diamond

Barry the poet

Swatting by her very own father a strange mother 

Moving in circle with a mark by a death claws

She was called shadow but her name was stone

Precious but unknown she was beneath the earth

she was shadow by no beauty cause she was design in rags

Locked, kept behind the bars of her mind 

Each meal she had was the prime of her time 

Striving for the light at the end of the tunnel but she had a chock hand

Her disability was the dark in her fore sight 

Even thou she was know by the sight of the first light 

She was strong she won a countless ramble

right on her face was a casket but she couldn't bury her depression

She had no identity so She couldn't craft her kind

She took 3bullet of guns to take away her own pain

And right there she was down with an open brain

Assuming she had wait she would have know her real name 