Endure to life,
the light,
to love,
the race,
And keep your faith.

The ground is not your home.
Pace of change in your head;
Hold it high
And be careful of night.

Don’t dig your grave,
With all the weight of pain.
Upgrade your soul,
your mate is in you.

Trust the voice;
it speaks the truth
you fear in nights of grace.

Own your name.
Endure the pain,
It has brought you to a dream
of a better future.

Walk away from hate,
Son, it’s not worth the wait.
Endure your voice,
It is the melody of being heard
by the broken;

The uninspired souls
Whose flaws are marked in dust.
Live thee poetry and watch how they will hate.

It’s never late or too late.
Thy years of age;
12 within the page,
living in a cage.

Noticed by the pen and paper
100s I never recited,
But the writing never gets old.
The words were never told,
yet they have not aged till late.

Golden by dust and thoughts of lust,
Groomed by my faith and fate,
No I’m not a saint;

I have failed to sing louder so I could be heard.
I let my spirit sink in fear as it almost suffocated me to the grave,
I grew up in a cage
where I had no right to cry or laugh cos my voice was acid in someone’s ears.

Now they say I’ve changed,
No I grew.
I found my voice I speak louder than the regulations,
but believe me;

I am still the same.
for art’s sake, I am not fake.
I endure the pain.