Epiphany

Everyone I know can vouch that I have a mutant’s mind. Conversations end in judgmental gazes, Soaked in awkward silences, My cranium throbs, The passive blast forces the hunchback growing from my brain stem to lash out. A constantly revised prophecy on the inside of my skull, The fact that no one knows could send me a drift along the manic shores. Bleach white tablets seem to be the only way I can make my own pilgrimage. I felt like i was in rout to mecca in the first verse, But I made a home along the Congo, I built the trees out of the stanzas, The land was so black and beautiful, I etched her from a metaphor, Or is that a simile? An anomaly managed to fill the blank space between the symbolic phrases and repetitious statements, conquering blue lines, Standing in the foliage, The blood line that I hadn't seen before, Kings, Queens, and mathematicians. My ancestors speak to me, About how the people once lived their lives, How they survived the bone chilling drought, And who they turned to when they were dominated, Surrounded by doubt. The vision came to an end, I had a better understanding of the ways of men, And to think all of this came from one pen.