Unjustly confined is my temple,

My spirit lost in a foreign world,

A world that’s filled with despair, backstabbing and uncertainty,

where even a twenty-four seven game face serves as no guarantee.

Like jamais vu, this malefice just can’t be true. 

M-a-a-m-a help! get me out of here.

Let me nestle in the bosom of your safe sanctuary,

while I pray for justice and petition for certiorari.

Mamma, at times my wearied spirit wants to take flight,

but I will be damned if I let them destroy my will to fight.

While I am in their midst,

I will not become bitter or contrist,

For I know that the day will come,

When I will hear the roll of a celebratory drum.

But until then,

I’ll keep rattling at the doors,

Because in America,

I know that the righteous will eventually come to see,

That this man/woman is innocent and set me free.