Thirty-fours years after my first breath, I
am still searching for my liege.
I was born to a family of slaves, but yet I
have no master to serve.
My freedoms are a consequence of my heritage.
My heritage is now my family.
My family are prevaricators who speak a
version of the penultimate truth which is
unknown me.
All I can do is all but listen, absorb and
import these ideologies into my offspring.
The cycle continues...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This piece about freedom is quite catching especially the part where the persona is passing down 'truths' to his children