Like running ghosts only sometimes 
Seen
Concealed in the gloom secretly behind closed
Doors
Continuously confused over the crap demonstrated among our
Own.


This black solitude,
As some of us have known, stems from such things 
as:

Our black characters,
Our black cultural differences,
Along with ordinary black circumstances that
will come and go
Within the domain of our miscellaneous black melting
Pots
That the majority of us are use to seeing on a daily
basis.


This sweet black solitude as I have 
Known,
But not only me, of 
Course
Like living in the cloudy but glorious
Heavens
Before the real eternal judgment
Time
It is portrayed by other outsiders as a thief in ones
Night
Unfairly judged by the colors of our bountiful
Skin
As with some of my own folk as 
Well.


This sweet, sweet black solitude, if unknown to
yourselves,
Which I seriously and overwhelmingly
Doubt
Have made me a master over
myself
Away from the strange attitudes demonstrated from my
Own.


This sweet, sweet black solitude, boy
I
Do deeply declare is part of my pattern of daily
Living
Away from the sometimes boisterous black
World.
Like a laid back cradle of continuous
Confinement,
But, do we all really
Know?
I really do know about the eternal man who sits on
High,
But Lord have mercy what others don't know.