Let Me Write

And let me have all the freedom I need Let me write my scarred frustrations on this paper and make the pen bleed Time wounds all heels and sowing this literary crop unreaps the mighty seed I hung on to similes and metaphors like they were dear life My bosom vibrates to the feel of pad in hand as I prepare to fracture the lead I resurrect art out the closed doors of dribbling sadistic writers I craft my ability on my weary body like a tatoo artist My eyes have been vexed by a violent history of unfruitful youth Washed my hands in a basin of history wrought by a dying people A descendant of the gods that were turned into slaves and brainwashed by a culture of a cursed civilisation A master architect and brother to the sphinx that I worshiped Till all went sour grapes and we were all shipped to a foreign land Of men who forced us to submission with whips that broke the bone and tore the flesh Let me write all the things that I know about brother Jesus Let me tell you the truth about how your governments create these diseases To control the population of a deceived people We are the free minority with the only power to cast away evil We are not living in equality And we confess a freedom that we don't really possess The masters of the slave trade can curse a clean hand that's ready to bless When the pen is in our bound hands, these chains can break, and we can unlearn ourselves of the ills that are still done to our people. Selah.