What force of nature can oppose a dream,
with feudalism vanquished by a King?
When part of me is part of “the regime,”
but all of me can echo freedom’s ring,
where can I stand? why can’t I sit? up front
I’m brave, but, still, I disappear
within the gray of Black and White: the brunt
of Gray Man’s Burden, borne by two-faced fear.

I’d stand with rap, with house, divided by
this “why did I…?”, yet I denied that who
I am is who we were; Now Let Me Fly,
I’ll Fly Away, like dark-skinned angels flew.
I’d stand, forgive, if planned to live; alive,
I aim where brothers shot: at twenty-five.