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...Throwaway kid who had no future, the void this made is where I cried
How would I cross the The River Acheron?....The Poet's Voice That's Deep Inside
In the maze I called my childhood, abuse is all I found
The place where pain was just like morphine, and joy of life was always drowned
All I did was be a youngster, yet I was beaten beyond repair
A tortured being, but Black and Gifted, so the onus I had to bear
A thundercloud forever dogged me, though from the storm I daily fled
To backstreets filled with Midnight's Children; yes, angel's wrote our names in red
Tasting the fruit that was forbidden, exposed to things too young to learn
And, just like Icarus who wanted freedom, the wings I made would often burn
Then came prison, the years of loneliness...a man of sorrows/from life estranged
Beyond redemption, they called me miscreant, "It's out of our hands, he can't be changed
Salvation appeared in "86", that's when I read a young man's verse
Nothing compelling or even poignant, in fact his words were terse
Yet, this was exactly what I needed to put out the destructive fuse
Back from the dead, a New Creation; God awakened my inner Muse
The victor's space I now inhabit, eschewing all crime and caper
Slaying the demons, killing them softly, as I transcribe my soul to paper
It's still quite hard to keep my focus, in this world I feel depressed
That's when the stanzas are most visceral; for, writing " Soothes The Savage Breast"
Eonian struggle to find true meaning, so in this shell I must reside
When I emerge then rhyme will follow...The Poet's Voice That's Deep Inside...
