As always I really don't know how to define my writing as it is contemptuous at times.
I have seen the hands of the mighty upon the necks of the week
I have heard words from those that do not speak
I have walked the highways looking for a ride
I have roamed the streets looking for a place to abide
No, I have never jumped from any plane
But I do know this one thing
That most have missed the blessing to be free
From looking down on people like you and me
How can we define who is lack?
And why do we judge by skin that is black
My hands do type many passages of sin
Its hard sometimes to hold it all in
Do I care about the judgment of my peers?
No, I don't even care about those that are near.
I'm just a person with the ability to say
Many things in a thinking way
Too much chatter
Should not matter
And long as it is said and misunderstood.