To be back in America
Comfort and solace
I'd find in amenities,
Pleasantries,
Remedies
For my deprived of joy blues
My relinquishing of
All the foods I could choose
To indulge in
To bring
Satisfaction
Contention
But still such an emptiness
Failure
To mention
What eats me
And haunts
Such a gaunt
Figure, frail
When this sinister skeleton's
Soul is for sale
Everyday I'm a part
Of the whole status quo
That no matter where I
Seem to go
Goes to show
There is no extrication
No true liberation,
Release
From the grip
From the clutches'
Injustice
For all we submit
To mentality mobs
And the slave-driver's whip
Ever am I the servant
Out here
Or back home
Ever pushing uphill
My infinity stone
But the masters
I find
I could be
Seldom times
Simple rhymes
Are my land of the free