The Little Haven of Hell

"It is in your power, your will; apply that burning desire to break the shield. Don’t be afraid of the unknown, spread your wings and fly to where you’d never think you could fly to. That is when you’ll realize your true potential. Don’t give up – free your mind – free your soul. Be positive."

The first thing that strikes you when you land to this place is the well polished houses. Everything kept neat in a corner. Everything labeled and organised so that there's no mistaking where you are going or where you wanna go. You really don't have to ask anyone in this little town. There are rules to be followed. Rules on the walls, unwritten rules in bold.
The dress code is different too. Everyone is dressed according to their own titles. The doctors, the gardeners, the laundry people, there's no mistaking who they are. What their role is. They have been engraved on their foreheads. Rules Rules. No overthinking. All's done for you. So the Niggers work. Work Niggas! Work!

What strikes me though as I walk around this little village of haven is the look on everyone's face. Something that cannot escape any visitor. Everyone looks dehydrated. There are no smiles. No laughters in the air that would be expected of such a lovely environment. Everyone looks emaciated. The doctors, the ladies, the old and aged, the big men all seem to let out a feeble cry of "please help me". But they never leave. All they do is Work! Work Nigga! Work!

It's like a prison of sorts. No walls that confine them to this prison, yet no one is escaping. They have been held prisoners by their own volition. Free will that's no longer free. Paid for. Priceless.

They listen and do without questions, they obey everything in fear. They run and never walk. No escape route here. Tangled minds without oblivion.

I walk around and no one has any answers. They talk in whispers and look back to see if they are being watched. You never know who's foe or who isn't. You have to play cool.These are prisoners of their own minds. Working Niggers! They Work!

Free humans held in their own bondage. There's no escape route, they are made to believe this. So they sit and stare. Hoping for liberation from an outside world that's just a step out. Not knowing that the answers lie in their weak minds. Fair decisions. Simple decisions. These are captives of their acquired beliefs, captives of their own choice. Captives of their own freedom.

Then I heard him say, "We are men in suits working for men in jeans"

Comments

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