I imagine
I would not have been
A kitchen slave
Complacent next to the fire
Eating the scraps from the master’s table
By deceiving comfort softened
A mind assimilated
My soul ameliorated
I imagine
I would not have been
A field slave
Burnt by the sun
Beaten down for insolence
Welts of dissent scars my body
A mind lost in submission
My soul gradually inebriated
I imagine
I would have been
The runaway slave
Constantly questioning my captivity
Tasting freedom’s reality
Closed to other’s proclivities
A free mind always activated
My soul will never be anything but liberated
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