My bed is an ocean of ideas
But my home kills my dreams
I lie awake for hours with my eyes closed
My sleep is in the future
My castles are yet unborn
I keep reaching for rainbows
But wait...
Why so thick the dark clouds that hold me back
My wealth is in religion
My faith rises
Manifested in insane crescendos of "amens"
Are we blinded in belief
Or irresponsible ignorance
Sold down by generations of selected secrets
Or intentional lies
Are we blinded by hope
Or Because...
Because too much blood has been lost in the struggle already
Our seeds have been enriched by the tears of widows and the blood of innocence.
Power has drunk deep beyond the flesh to the very souls of people it pledged to
protect
While our dead decay by the second
We pray for a resurrection to pale faces
our ancestors didn't know
The same faces who feel more
comfortable
With us limited or in chains.
My bed is wet with tears of realities dreamed
But never lived.
My home is a place where even I am not safe
Raped severally by my fathers
Betrayed by my brothers
Sold by my mothers into the mistakes they refuse to correct
Seduced by my sisters and broken by their absence
A teachers knowledge is a thin line away from his corruption
The healer's hands are shaky from guilt
The preacher lifts his hands but even he loses faith
My freedom is in my own hands
I can live it in my dreams
Or bring my dreams to this life
Against all odds
