Everything I write comes out angsty! What do I do...but alot of the time I feel sorry for Pedro as he seems to have the hardest deal in the book and I think if I was his character I wouls be way more resentful!

I am a Prince

I was a prince once, in Africa, now I am a Prince of the people and of the music I play.

Yet there is no mistake which one I wish I could be, my homelands so dry with the wild beauty that London has moulded into 'sophistication' on its own turf, it is the beauty of home I long for.

The droughts and crop failures that so harmed my people seem a mere drop in the ocean, I am a Prince over encaged people. Who, like the coloured birds of my homeland, have been brought by the curious white people as pets to prod and grow bored of, brought to die without the promise of our home.

Cat once told me the story of Moses, the story of a faith so different from my homeland-so different from the tricks of Anansi or creator Wulbari and the many Gods my people loved. Yet Moses led his people from the slavery of the Egyptians, I have been put on a tall tower of my musical talent and yet I do not have the strength to let my people go.

Everything I do here is to compensate, it is cruel but Cat reminds me so strongly of my much loved sisters that in my dreams she replaces them.

The grandeur of Frank's life a mere reminder of my royalty and the imported decorations remind me a little of home, so slight and yet enough so that I may carry on another day.

The gang is a mere ghost of the boys that followed me eagerly to be my friend as we play fought when our work was done, they shadowed my steps in respect as a reflection of their fathers respect for my own father.

When no one is listening I play the music of my past and I let it float through me and despite the sound emanating from my violin is to cultured and confined for my home the things I love and long for are brought together. My music and the heart of my home melodise until I am there again the smell of mud in my nostrils, the birds wings flapping as they fight for water in the river.

I remember the struggle to survive.

I remember the men who compete with my father for his power.

I remember the death of my youngest brother in my mother before he is completely born.

I remember the fear that came with the white man.

The ships and smell of dying and decay, my sisters dragged from under my fingertips-the breaking of my promise to keep them safe.

But now I sleep softly, food and drink is so easily gotten to worry about, the God here seems to care for his people, I am a Prince and the people adore me.

But why is it so hard?

Please review it takes no effort and makes me ever so happy!