I'm Me
I'm the poor lad, You once mocked, With no hopes to hold, I was the bat beaten by rust-reeking rains, Whom was worthy save for the seventh sacrifice.
I was the flood-painted sojourner, You shooed from your glass, windows and frangipani field, for the ghetto was my reality, Because I had a vain voice, Because God gave me a straight path to tread, To reach high above the clouds.
Imafidon Mac Henry
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