Hard way out

I'm trying to quit being

such a pampered first-worlder

reclining in the lap of lavishness

while my bretheren narrowly escape

the pinched face of death

by merely wishing for the freedoms

I so often take for the granted.

I long for the rigors of discipline

and the comfort of belonging

to something bigger and grander than myself

to save those who protected me

in my malleable formative years

so I could learn the timeless lessons

of which I can pass on to my children

and fulfill the prophecy of all life.

But I know I'll never get the chance.

For I threw away my future

in a moment of psychosis and hate

consumed by the confusion of

a young black mans' dream at redemption

although no lines of temerity had been crossed.

I'll never see the world. I'll never fight for glory.

I'll never be a gear. I'll never write my story.

I'll never see my father again, until my eyes are hoary.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for the solo rhythm, we'll just play one note really fast!

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