Right in the dead of a very cold winter
When the tired slave's soul is ash gray
And the cotton plantation becomes whiter ,
Begins a poor slave's hard working day .

In Winter when the master makes a call
This was every slave's worse nightmare
It was time for his hard whips to fall
insurmountable pains he couldn't bare .

Snowballs are piled outside like cotton
His Wounds hurts but as usual he's told
Stay strong brother Kunta, just hold on
Just Stay calm till the barn is closed .

This is the mid of a cold bitter winter
And the crow of a **** heralds a sad day
A slave's prayer to God was a sad whisper
He needed strength to get pass this day.

follow me on twitter@ivanclappers

With the sunlight on my face,
All the walls surrounding me; opaque,
The outside world completely efface,
I found myself, now awake.
The fortress of my captivity,
Keeping me alive but still,
The fortress of my incompetency,
The last of me it killed.
The pleasure it tingled,
Cannot be replaced,
Still I wish to run away,
To the land outside these gates,
All the gold I have,
Is nothing but metal,
All the joy I need,
Is not for what I’ve settled,
This fortress of my solitude,
Forever screaming the pains it felt,
This fortress of my extinction.
With me, dying many deaths.
Curtains in this room,
Stopped speaking now,
Left their bodies here,
And heart outside the realm, astound.
It’s marvellous how miserable I am,
With all the wonders at my foot,
The jewels, the pleasures,
Even so,
I’d love to take all my plans and scram.
The palace of illusion,
I am living in,
Has given me more than I ever deserved,
Yet the feeling of me belonging in the field,
Is something I’ve always preserved .
The fortress of my hopelessness,
Falling down now,
With the reign of my lord changing,
In front of an unknown king we bow,
Thrown out of this boundary,
Helplessness prevails,
But the joy it brought me,
I set a new sail.
For life has always been,
Catastrophic,
Dreadful it seemed,
It felt worthwhile now,
Alas! It is just a dream.