Self-made artists

We are the visionaries

We artists in an art gallery of our own

In a galaxy of our own

Born with abilities to manifest massive possibilities

We play with pens and pencils

The paper is our playground

Blank pages haunt us

Blank pages hurt us

They blind us

So instead we use art as a shield to prevent the blinding light from hitting home

We feel as if blank pages are too white for our Black souls

So we use black ink to remind Africans

That beneath the black skin lies black glory and beauty that burns in abundance

We pay attention to the world

Analyse every detail

We rewrite reality

Till it becomes prophecy

We are photographers of thoughts

The pen is the tongue of our minds

It keeps us awake at night

The words we write shine bright like stars in our dark rooms

The pen becomes the moon

It is simply just a balloon we hold to spontaneously fly into a world where reality doesn’t exist

Imagination becomes our nation

We write best when we either fall in love or fall apart

Deep down in our hearts is a volcano of artistry waiting to erupt

We are the

Self-made artists