I crawled home. On my own. Bloodied and dying.
No one came to look for me when I went missing.
No one came to pick me up.
I crawled home. On my own. For days.
When I finally arrive, no one came to the gate to welcome me.
Momma scolded me for being late. Pops threatened me with a whip. My bloodied body bruised and broken was my fault.
I went upstairs to wash. Slept for days.
Woke up in rage. Grew up into that rage.
Found a needle to pinch my voodoo arms.
Took a lifetime to end that shit. But finally got ended when I accepted the truths I never wanted to see.
Went to the desert. Let the burning bush burn away the pain.
Celebrated the possibilities.
I became a part of my now.
I am the Preacher King.