The reality of pure truth
Hasn’t been revealed
Our minds could
Receive its wisdom
In the form of this imagination
Imagine a nation
Where poverty doesn’t exists
Money wouldn’t be a problem
So other situations
Could be handled
Allowing our minds to rightfully think
Where the kool aid they add
Wasn’t always pink
Where education doesn’t resemble
A sink another great mind
Becomes filtered down this drain
Where racism connects like a train
Face down free falls like a plane
That was weighted by programmed
Rain but this plague becomes
Very vague people are dying fast
And also slow but we still
Mesmerized
Carvings in caves while
Our youth misbehaves
Then we say we have been
Set free but deep in our hearts
We know we are still slaves
When reality becomes a bad dream
Trying to escape it like a genie
Inside a bottle remember
The plane head first full throttle
We want to reign not to deal
With all this precipitation
From our prescriptions
This is when reality becomes
Truly our drug we often
Over compensate trying to
Fly away from hate
Whether it’s from outside
Or inside our gate
By Deon Souldier Ballard