Not Titled

Would they pay more attention?
If I wrote Tupac across the packaging
Screams of Mandela’s soul pierce my unworthy youthfulness
Searching the depths of the barrels for a little buzz
Paid my dues with the two cents you took for granted
Makin myself comfortable in paradise but I do it quietly,
careful of the lurking serpents
I might not have the antidote to heal your aching soul
Tell you right from wrong
So, I pour these thoughts onto seedless tress
Hopefully this will free the mind

Pay no mind to the slanderous behaviours
Wе’ve found the answers thеy seek
Written on the stones they gave us, throwing tantrums
Hold steady as I adjust this blindfold
Fruits of my labour yet unborn
Journeying through winding endeavours
Reciting cries of our guarding mothers
Dodging the stereotypes in which they box us

Would they pay more attention?
If I wrote Gandhi across the packaging
Screams of Steve Biko’s soul haunt my unworthy youthfulness
I’ve been dying to find my purpose
See, my future has been a daunting task since birth
Their unwelcoming stares in the dark
Plunge deep into the inherited scar
One that carries tales of the inglorious past
A turtle from grey lands handed me an Acacia leaflet
Said, patience is worth more than what you seek