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letra de minimalist project continuous mix ( interludes) - summitboahen

ayine (story interlude)

ewiase y3 hu oo
growth is a trap
used to sleep with wild thoughts
and
a bright future hanging over cozy sheets
and
heavy dreams
presently i am hanged over a green bottle
and
some wild “tots” disregarding the fear of being hanged over misfiring wild shots
talking of shots, this life thing is a free throw
the young ones take the shots, but when we grow, we can only make the shots
kakra ba me ho aa they will say i chop money medicine
but if i stay broke, how can i afford medicine
wonder why the weak is p-ssed at the success of the strongman
in fact some twitter fingers ranted when sarkcess signed strongman
used to expect a gift from santa claus every 25th december
but when i grow up my village will treat me like i am santa claus and every day is 25th december
i watched my father slot in the prepaid card with a frown
only to repeat it the next two days looking like the world is an ocean and he will drown
i got p-ssed when the lights went out
i don’t care dad you guys should just take away the darkness
had a stable life as a teen
now i am 20 and over and i am looking at this life like some madness
yes 20 and over and still no sign of the rover
same range owned by others in my age range
used to dream about this imaginary wife helping me with my suitcase after work
time is flying and i am still roaming accra with my cv in this new case after work
to grow up is to put a gun to the head in suicide
because now you have to decide on which tie is perfect for this interview
and
when you get that job you immediately want to retire
high risk, high reward? d-mn it!
there is never a guarantee of getting to the summit

tryphena (anarchy interlude)

if you’re hearing this then maybe the walls broke down
and
this is the sound of a girl breathing for the first time- on her own
no braces for when my chest breaks out
no chains to keep my body in one place
look at me and tell me freedom has nothing to do with a woman finding her voice
look at me and say being heard isn’t revolutionary
call them wars
call them fights
call them the heavy gushing of blood
long years of the sound of fear but my rebellion is louder
long years of the sting of grief but my heart is tougher
i would never have known we turn our tongues into swords when we set them loose
never would have thought liberty stands for courage-
courage stands reckless existence
and
to exist is to be ready for answers at all cost
even if it means i die with the shackles falling off
even if it means i lose with my chest burst wide open
a spade stuck right through me
mocking everyone who taught my body was a ship
and
they were in control
look at where you buried your anchor
inside of me
the weak one
inside of me
the caged one
inside of me
the defeated one
oppression is a question mark
and
i am dismantling its structure
one letter after the other
i’m leaving no trace
washing a bl–dy history with more blood
only this time, i started the fight
what’s inside my body is water and i drown every time i keep my mouth shut
what’s inside my body is fire and i burn every time i don’t open up
liberation was born in my belly and i am hungry all the time
at least i know now that i will never choose to starve when i can eat
never choose to crawl when i can stand
never choose silence when my lung is flooded with a voice
at least i know now that i am never going down without throwing my hands out
that i can end conversations with
“remember to breathe, that’s the first battle you can win”

- summitboahen

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