house full of women.

Grew up in a house full of women. 
Voices bouncing off from every room. 
Sopranos on high. 
Alto voz was my song, 
But it lacked the tenor from the tenure of my father. 

Missing was the depth of the voice of a man like a 
drum in a corner catching dust with no one to play. 
I walked slumped over because there was no bass to straighten me up.

A broken guitar, my strings were strung out. 
I found comfort in making beats by pounding my fists across faces. 
Violence was my tune. 
It liberated me from one cell to another. 

Found God, found harmony.
Now we rock to the symphony of His salvation.