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.