This takes me to when....
My fears where fake,
And my pain was right there.
Being told
My colour was pathetic by
a man who was high on vitagen.
But thank God that I wasn't
Rebellious,
But still hated the pride of Some white men.
It seems if though
It might have been better
If they've known.
The struggle we have gone,
Because of their hearts made of stone
And their bank account filled with gold
Pride stripped,
From my ancestors who've been told:
Their soles and lives by the white men are owned.
Bars in front of us,
Chains on our hand,
With our eyesight filled with dust
We loose our lives because of your bloodlust
Don't say you hate us
But better bare us
The reason you make us,
The victims of your guns
It seems if that...
more y'all kill us,
the less comparison and trust
Being told my colour was pathetic by a man who high on vitagen
Still hate the pride of Some white men.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion Of Happiness
PoetryA beautiful exposure to the roughness and beautiful emotional intensity of a young boy . A cry for help, but yet a better understanding of one's feelings -- both internal and external.
