Renovation

I. Not a pseudo thug turned rapper, Or a pseudo rapper turned poet Nor a pseudo intellectual turned advocate. Simply a front-running, pack moving, sacrificial mind-molder: A father with good intentions. II. A forgotten piece on a forgotten puzzle, An onslaught aiming at injustice, And yet the last of a dying breed. Mere canvas color, Combined to make portraits come alive. I coalesce the abstract painted as truth. III. Hope’s emissions seeping through misty window panes The calluses on homeless feet, The brunt of Adam’s burdens, the scapegoat for millions. I am truth evoked through judicial eyes: “Your sentences will run concurrently!” IV. My plight is not one cared for. As jaundiced as newborn eyes, I am the renovation!