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?


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