Home Of Bondage Poem by Fate McFate

Am a refugee from the home of bondage
born in to be
enmeshed behind its docks for yonks
entangled in this inherited conviction;
the rite's prison.
Deep in our conscience.
Centuries founded walks
stand stiffly as board
inscribed by queer letters
letters that sum up to words
of crime: murder, rape, robbery.

In their presence, we make a jazz
our evil instrictive desires in a sweet jargon.
We don't mean, cut the mango tree.
We mean, chop off their heads.
This instrictive belief solely bases on exuberance of revenge
revenge for our ancestors,
against our brothers whom we differ
by the language of the tongues,
by the colours of the skin.

This selfish futile battles; when shall they
end?
The rites of revenge,
when shall we refrain from their adoration?
This is my treason!
My exodus from the house of bondage.