Truth is deeper than answers.
Are you a whore?
Or a product of a broken home where love was just an Imagination in the hands of a father’s Temptation to leave.
His seeds now only watered by a Mother’s sweat and tears from years of having no Son to lift the burden of floods that have unearthed our ancestors graves.
Slaves to a system of oppression that only finds us worthy in courts. Golden State or State Penitentiary. Different, or equal to bloodstained cotton that clothed Caramel children.
Cacao beans are too bitter to taste, so we add milk and sugar in hopes that sweetness can erase the pain, dilute the hate.
But I prefer my coffee black.
Black as the space between my roots and petals. A place that’s filled with unanswered questions, and suggestions of distant leaders whose spirits are still screaming for freedom.
Why are we still chained?
Why are we still caged?
And who swallowed the key?
It was you.
Now spit it out.