My Blood
By Sabbath de Yecouba
Blood which is dark red
Made of humility and self satisfaction
Contented with my belongings
Needs less but has more in it
Calm with a lot of false hearsays about me out there
It is my blood
Clean from wastes of cruelty
Free from curse of stolen possessions
Hard to drain for its high viscosity
Thicker ten times than water
Visible on my soft and hairy skin
It is my blood
Satisfied with my behavior
My engine which drives me towards truth and justice
Without a trace of chaos but peace
Feasibly a joy to my veins and arteries
Loves my type and loves my haters
It is my blood
It knows who claims I am a thief
When stolen possessions make me shiver in coldness
It is aware of the blackmail behind my back
That I am wicked and jealous
It knows the credibility of me and my being
It is my blood
Blood causes a manslaughter
It is a wise judge
Judging you with your right and wrong
Because at the end of every tomfoolery
It will ensnare you alone
And everyone will take it in
My blood is clean
It hasn’t any bad practice since birth
Neither what belongs to another man
Taken in unlawful means
Nor the hearsay which has torn the world apart
Whatever you may hear them say is not about me and my blood
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