kawambee thomas

Prison Of Mind

My mind is distorted by reoccurrences of past experiences
Somehow the sight of my own reflection increases my loneliness
I found myself coming in and out of this conscious state
Contemplating while debating hoping one day to be free of my ways
But then I find myself back to the starting point of this pen
When I fall to my knees kneeling my head into my hands
It’s me with this mental imprisonment and only can save him
My prison of mind

What I’m about to tell you is a common trait that every lost soul goes through
But stay with me listen and don’t judge
Because this common trait of sickness is a dope fiend’s drug
Yeah this drug causes ignorance
To the point of disrespecting every beautiful black woman’s vision
Creating children but never raising them
Telling every woman you love them just to sleep with them
Forgetting the true identity of our existence
I’m telling you this story because it was you my sista who was my victim
My prison of mind

Let’s reiterate my sickness the next phase we’ll speak about was my existence
This is every young mans mistake
Was it TV or society that determined our fate?
Or was it the household I resided in
Where constant cussing and fussing became my new found friend
Where TV had me thinking this is the life to live
Where society only flocks to the rich
Where every poor common fellow doesn’t carry a chance
Now I’m left with this vision “I’ll never be a man”.
My prison of mind

The next part of my vision is the most intriguing
The mental part of a young man who’s trying to find himself
This part is based upon self-identity
Where every young mind is struggling
And why do I speak so carefully about this
Because it’s the reason a million black men are incarcerated
Why woman of today has to be that man
Why another 6 million babies are strung out on heroin
And why the children of today is mentally infected
Becoming the epidemic of sex, money and violence
They don’t even know the meaning of respect
They are babies raising new babies being part of the domino effect
Now you tell me their chance, soon as they stepped out the womb
Society already written them off, calling them a product of their environment
So now the government is making a profit
Taking our babies away from their homes, finding new homes calling them foster kids
When in actuality the welfare of our children turned into a government asset
When in reality their chances were better in the hands of their mother u labeled unstable
And as a result the second versus of this poem is why our children are lost
My prison of mind!

Poem Submitted: Thursday, July 19, 2007
Poem Edited: Tuesday, March 22, 2011

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