This face is not mine,
Not meant to be rude
It is just one of the choices against my life
A mask I was, had to put on
That it be me, who looks wild
When my soul is soft
Turned to my surprise
Spiritually taken to hide Malice
Not so meant to do
Pushed to hurt
When I bid loud orisons
Hoping that someday I will be free
And so shall him;
My younger brother
Looking to me
At all times
When we should battle for our freedom
He saw less, off what I did
So young to recollect
So how, the past finds me to hunt
Sincerely strained,
Drained is my humanity
Freedom will come,
If it will be after me
At least to my younger brother
And my children
A blessing of the next generation
