I am worth being valued for existing Not only in the moments That I become relevant, necessary, or useful For lustful, celebratory or inspirational insanity
I am not a lollipop or an exotic destination Stop exploring me ******* Because you salivate over this Hispaniola Beautiful island desecrated and decimated
How many beautiful spirits will you make savages How many pure rivers will you **** blood on How many conquests will you claim a stake in How much balance will you disturb and subjugate to the trauma of your transitory exploration
There's no impunity for conquerors Who taste, plunder, disguise disapproval in their apologies and move on
There's no impunity for conquerors Who pick and choose who's worth Of validation, when, & how
There's no impunity for conquerors Who play with men and women Hierarchize their prey But fail to acknowledge Their man-child whitewashed Hidden agendas & rigged market values
Conquerors haunted by the trauma they've caused Will not be absolved by the revolution
Neither will the revolution be the breast That heals conquers who are traumatized By the realization of their own fuckery