I have concluded with myself

that this diluted place needs help

not just from me but I and I

We all give thanks for a slice of pie

that first is treated to make it fresh

so we believe this is cherry flesh

when in my heart it knows

and in the people shows

this flesh in our own

this flesh is our own and cannot be treated with

so I beg for some freedom to make my own pie

and they give me the seeds but the seeds wont make seeds

so i must beg for some more while they laugh at my pleas

they say that i’m sick when i know its a fever

but still they cut it away with a razor meat cleaver

and i know still in my mind that they stole from my pain

all the things i must learn from it, the things i would gain

I don’t feel any better mon what are ya feeding me

but the ingredients read to me like chinese calligraphy

the air it gets thicker when they cut down my garden

while my home fills with smoke and the soil it hardens

They say i don’t need these things my mind is pollution

and they tell me they know all of life and solutions

when i know i was better with the food i was growing

and that my garden would be good if the winter was snowing

and my seeds would make more seeds so i could eat with the earth

and not with the things i was told from my birth

not with the lies that they pound in my brain

its too late mon i found it, that lying devil is slain

so i see now with clearness i must make for their greed

my own plan for happiness with my own planted seed

and because they must plant their seed anew every year

my seed will make seeds and i’ve got nothing to fear

poisons only hinder but they can’t cloud my truth

this is my pesticide for the government in our youth

I will only plant truth
err..grammer has nothing to do with my poem its power of words not correctness of grammer i know how to put a sentence together