I was hoping one day you could see through
the false religions displayed —
and it's OK if you’re walking a path
that ain't never been walked before.

They gonna study your footprints
like you was sent from the most highest.
Everything you touch is like Midas —
turn to gold.

It's told, I hold my breathe
as the story unfolds.

Pale skin to a darker blend,
it's all sin waiting to be forgiven from within.
Punishment is only self-inflicted
and only motivated by the witness.

Wounds feel better as a child,
when we offer it up and say,
“mama, kiss this.”

Damn I miss this.
As the world turns, so many of us
stay stuck in the past as it burns —
flame throwers.

I close my eyes so you can feel what I learned,
and trust me, karma is only earned.

My beginning came way before the sperm.
Concerned prophets couldn’t see clearly
because they thought I lost it.

Artifacts are what make my heart contract
with hieroglyphs written in different scripts
on my skin.

That too, they tried to tell me was a sin,
but they just wanted to erase everywhere I been.

I look to the future kuz that’s the place
to send all my children and they kin.

They say, if you feel the pain,
that must mean you’re alive.
That’s a lie.

I’ve been walking around dead for years,
praying I would come alive from my tears.

The people’s champion — because I conquered my fears,
and the system’s villain kuz I was spilling the truth,
setting new foundations from the root.

With no loot, just motivation and patience.

I was grinding harder than the hustlers on the street,
and they couldn’t compete at the least.
One foot after another turned into feet.

I’m the one you came to hear speak.
Even in my moments where I get weak,
I’m still stronger than them at their peak.

What took them five years to complete,
I did last week.

It’s no wonder I’m the black sheep —
the outkast.

I outlast when it’s time to blast,
immortal stepping through portals.

You ain’t gotta believe it,
but I ain’t gotta deceive it.

You dream it, while I grieve it.
Just leave it.

It’s probably good where it stands,
right there in the Supreme God’s hands.

God damn! is never speaking its name in vain,
it’s just holding a title way below its pay grade.

Do you still wonder
why the system want this fade???

— By Del Sol
flying cotton el-bey