Am I

Am I a killer with a gun shooting rounds of inspiration?
Or an agitator wanting to control the situation

Am I the brother ‘pon the corner that you cannot ignore?
Or the evil in you life that cuts right to de core

Am I a new age therapy spreading fear and disease?
Or a master being told him can’t do as him please

Am I a warrior in a battle between war and peace?
Or a mild mannered janitor waiting to unleash

Am I a shaking hand ruling with a nerve of steel?
Or a storm blowing winds that nobody can feel

Am I a chemical mixing up a weapon of construction?
Or an elevator moving in a lateral direction

Am I a pilot flying solo ‘pon the wings of a jet?
Or an assassin paid to execute remorse and regret

Am I a colonizer breaking the chains for liberation?
Or an activist to scared to fight the revolution

I’m neither, wrong or right
Neither, black or white
Cut straight down the middle like a surgical knife
I’m neither, wrong or right
Neither, black or white
Cut straight down the middle like a surgical knife

Am I a dead man walking talking inna him sleep?
Or a clasped hand praying without no belief

Am I a heat beat beating a pattern of frustration?
Or a pacifist wanting to bomb another nation

Am I a dark cloud spreading light and introspection?
Or a detonator ticking in the wrong direction

Am I a sinner feeling shame for the things I should have done?
Or a father to bold to embrace his own son

Am I a collective thought inside of a twisted mind?
Or a drug fuelled addiction of the spiritual kind

Am I a sound wave traveling at the speed of light?
Or a vampire frightened of the afterlife

Am I judgment masquerading as a moment of glory?
Or a hostile alien killing all before me

Am I a deep-rooted shame that you want to express?
Or a stripper inna bar to ‘fraid to undress

Am I a gaping wound healing with a cut from a knife?
Or naked corpse whipped within an inch of its life

Am I air, breathing life into death and destruction?
Or the soil that buries all hopes of a resurrection

Am I the stale stench of sex passing for love and affection?
Or the legions ‘pon your skin that foil an erection

Am I guilt so guilty I believe I’ve been wronged?
Or the shackles clasped around my neck to prove I belong

Am I a dog-eared bible used to pray upon my sins?
Or an ambush waiting for the war to begin

Am I the weak will of desire yearning for less?
Or the skeletal remains of de new flesh

Am I an alien incarnation summoned from within?
Or the monotone faces dat need coloring in?