They call it the Gold Coast but I call it the Soul Coast millions of them lost and angry at the way that time wrote their story. It was divide and conquer then shackles and chains if the babies were born they'd be killed in days. In a million ways battles were fought so the men could back to the boats with thoughts of never comin back. As the storm raged on the cloulds got darker some jumped in the water so they could go under and live their next life without wonder of what would be next rape,murder or plunder. The moan of the sick, the stench of the dying you thought hell was bad than you must be lying to yourself about life and lives before yours that left open doors for you to walk through as well as walk back. It was rich in minerals which is why they came tamper with spirits and capturing brains tell them about their version of a Messiah and making them forget the lane that their ancestors traveled. Although time refuses to show many facts many fought like hell stay and leave it at that. Nana Kwamenah Ansa just to name one refused to participate and fell to a gun shot by a foreigner who killed him with no hassle later to set up a dungeon called Elmina Castle. You thought they were done which means you are naive to think that a killer would pull up his sleeves and wash his hands of the blood he leaves. Many look like him but are not suspects since they do not even know who the ones with power fuss at. This ain't poetry or anything of the likes some have to be caught differently to recognize the light and darkness which rule your mind up until the day you die or return the place your soul was born. The souls on the coast are still walking shouting out names,screamin,and talking. Those who listen will get the message some musicians do and shows in their art and if you think you cannot hear than you should start to open up.