Plowing and plowing and plowing,
Under the hot scorching sun,
My skin gets darker, but who am I to know the difference between fair and dark colors,
After all I do not have a right.
Because I am the child of the burnt, the offspring of the darker one.
After all I am Black.
Branded with markings,
Burdened with chains, legs bounded, mouth tight lipped, we have become prisoners in our own land.
Sentenced to a life of a caged bird, treated like animals because of what?
Enlighten me because it seems as though the modernity comes as an angel to make us educated but instead manipulates it's way to be sovereign.
It takes our raw resources refining it, and plagiarize taking our glory as theirs, making us look like fools in the eyes of our brothers and sisters.
But what can we say,
After all we are Black.
Years and years went by,
Trying to justify our justice but with the little knowledge we knew how could we justify the right which we could not explain in a lay man's language.
Education was a no,
Subjected to watch others reap from the work of our labor,
Singing to carry our sorrow away as a pain killer.
What have we done to deserve this?
The degrading, the humiliation, the torture.
But what can we say,
After all we are Black.
Blinded by power, greed and other emotions unknown to mankind.
They kill knowingly and unknowingly.
Wanting power making us serve them.
Many have fought for us but you can't change what has been carved into the mind of someone.
Independence is what some of us seek but the remaining half want acceptance.
Why do you not accept us?
Why?
But what could we do,
After all they are the superior.
Grieve upon grief upon grief,
We grieve the lands taken from us, given by our ancestors.
We cover ourselves with the leaves of the earth hoping to cover our striped dignity.
They discriminate because of what?.
Passions upon passions are being replaced because dreams and inspiration are tarnished like papers.
But what can we do?
After all we are Black.
Taking and taking and taking,
They never give, making us believe our purpose is to give and not be given.
Taking our resources, our land, our loved ones.
Slaving us to our own land.
Subtly simmering our pride and joy.
Would it make it better if we ceased to exist.
Would it make it better if we bleached, because even though we become lighter we can not change who we are.
After all we are Black.
Trying and trying and trying,
Martin Luther king Jr tried,
Maya Angelou tried,
Matthew Henson tried,
Barbara Johns tried,
Jackie Robinson tried,
Mansa Musa tried,
But it's hard to change what has been taught as right,
We are never heard no matter how much we try, we are always ignored, no one wants to hear the colored side of the story.
But what can we say,
After all we are Black.
Hoping and hoping and hoping,
Freedom we hope,
Acceptance we hope,
Hope I guess that's our new motto,
After all we are Black.
