I inherited the atavistic mindset
Of enslaved ancestors
Their blackness impaled
By black thoughts
My reality has become one endless line
After another endless line
And the dark group meetings designed under the guise
Of quelling demonic strongholds on our minds
To sight see like zoo patrons
Up and close of what a mind too weak to recognize God
Looks like
This...
Will surely exacerbate my psychosis
So I wait and I wait again
And I wait some more
Here comes the lines again
I wait for the great light of divinity
Nothing happens
All is too quiet
The strange comings and goings
Of the more atavistic weakness in others
"Take your medicine" is the mantra
Meds for breakfast
Meds in the midday
And then comes the meds
That deliver you into dreams...
and nightmares
All so that the normal folk hired to babysit us
May finally have peace, devoid of monstrous screams
Those psychosomatic pains become real
At least they are real in my mind
The pain in my heart is like a fever that will not break
The thoughts in my head sends a paroxysm of pain
To pump through my every vein
But the desire to win bursts through
With the devil's minions in tow
What is this thing that
Which my ancestors have bestowed?
I claim not those atavistic
Slavery impaled thoughts
I claim them not
In God's name, I claim them no more