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(More to do with my incarceration)
I hold my own hands as the future stands,
My brittle soul, stretched across the lands
Peace and Tranquility,
Who will fill the crystal vase?
Infinite gratitude in time and place.
My memories are like black sand,
Please, preserve my innards in the cans.
The maniacal plans of domination
Began while in segregation
The world is not made for the ill.
(We prematurely write our will)
I'm reported to be twenty-six
Yet watch cartoons made for kids
Simplicity and glee,
A dozen roses in the vase,
To see the smile on her face.
A thousand years from now
People may ask just how
We remained intact
And fell off track
(With sheer predictability)