Through the sinner of maze, the journey unto life , each motion was made with great
intent, I moved from streets of destruction into the valley cross the cities in states.
The funny thing about life is, there's always "one more thing." Chances are not seen
beyond the madness of inner minds to see outside the box, American drama is alive!
as I work for the quest of unity, fighting for justice and in the battle of peace for life
for the love and hope, I watch collectively the nation fall deeper into the slumber of
They return to the hole, but find that it has collapsed and covered in the blood that
spill onto the land, I weep in the salty grain of madness before me , unity seem in
the great distance of nowhere , I join the group as I formed the group to organize
rebuild and rebuff the truth of America and it's true keepers , I had the honor to hub
with every side , every corner with every man, learning unity to unite not a people
but a nation while crossing pathways lives lost yet a new life member was born.
Hear me; As their abilities grow more powerful, function like a muscle, becoming
stronger with use. The trio develop a close friendship and begin employing their
abilities and they say (white man can't jump)it's a lie , they say we are our own
sorrow only half truth yet still not televised .
I learn we can't unite between self alone , we can't see beyond the shores, but
in the sea it rumbles in fighting waves, the land crumbles from it's reality, still
I keep moving, marching, preaching, speaking, against the many obstacles of
poverty and neglected people, when I choose to be down for life I committed
my all with a help line a source or supply from which benefit is produced, my
hands fed three thousand seventy one souls , hub with marchers speaking from
every note to bring peace against guns , brothers vs brothers sister and mothers.
Dealers and members of American drama wasn't found in the community not
on the street but in the hidden secrecy of society ,media never televise the
payee but the payer is hit as the problem when one forgotten to look inside the
reflectional mirrows of self image, we fight the inner demons , we fight the self
pitty the anger of history instead of gracing the value of historical moments.
I journey down into a place where I found no return, but a beginning to another
piece added into the bank of black history, the chronicle of America is who we are
why run from the very place we built and birth and raised , our baby the bed we
made and today the mission is to clean it up.
I fight" I fight the cause.
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