Not a rap...just a rap

There's a question in my soul,
Of which I can't grab a hold,
It's a rock I can't crush,
An answer I just want to be told,
Elusively, it's like an active mystery.
I'm in disbelief.
I remembered then forgot, that's my history.
Why can't we, brothers, be,
Loving to each other when we eat?
What's with the attitudes that we conceive?
Why do we lack common courtesy?
This junk is hurting me,
Deep inside there's a wound burning free,
Like a forest's blaze that is killing trees.

"Like an olive tree, planted by the streams."


What about the prayers that we pray?
What about the words we say each and everyday,
Like we're speaking to Shakespeare blinded by sun rays,
When culture has got it's grip, culture don't let go,
When you've got God in a box, you would hate to lose control,
But what if we really prayed, like how the Psalmists stated,
O my God, "how long will you hide Your face?", it's belated,
And I've just conveyed it,
Though hoping to allay it,
That in a few moments Love will have portrayed it.


Cover your heart up and pretend there's nothing to see,
Like you're perfectly fine, and your wounds don't stink.
Festering cuts that happened long ago,
Repressed memories of others' sins that nobody else knows,
A holey veil over your body to make it seem fine,
But through all the pain one sees when using Jesus' eyes.
Because Jesus' eyes, can see His children's cries,
And don't you hate to see your brethren trapped behind enemy lines?
Don't you hate it when others lie?
Let us ask, then, why do I?