Some have called him a walkeing stereotype.
The man of God with soft Georgia twang
He embraces it gladly
For it means people he has never met
Seem to already know him
And yet his brows knit sometimes, frustrated
For it also means people he has never met
Seem to already reject him
Remembering perhaps a soft velvet twang
Wrapped about a mailed fist
Looming in their own past
When you seem like a man already known
You open yourself, a vessel, to the past

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