I really talked at large before
twenty six stolen years were actually stolen,
shots in my mind,
A hero’s wound gunned down
and I captured every scene
Brilliant! If you never ask me.
But who can write of give and take if
timepiece took what was given,
Must not all themes at last be puked up in lineage
Like a template of What is and what will never hold fairness
What should occur and what not to occupy our vacant heads
While we Recite recycled absent memories
Aren't we all clones of different races
Or a moving image of looped events ?

A "Book of  Good News" declared we should still hope
Till Ama-Afrika conquer what will never be;
Even if it does exist!
But who is there to argue such with a right mind,
and pretend not to see the absolute lie
given The complexion of politics is stolen but never be sold
And is our logic to outweigh
every becoming that will never be,
Are we Addicts of false orders ?

How could fantasy not imagine
while the engineering of fate still watch
Every Second with a third reference
For those new years Misfortune have never defined,
Only in True logic or on the fingertip of a hardworking
that I came to learn :
Getting ourselves out of our ways will get our means out of despair.
The Present Past and the Future is a present,
Surprise!
Time Mastered to interfere with our give and never-take
Is this A dialogue between fear and failure ?