PoetrySad Poems

Satire Soul

All lives matter when all that matters is one color,
And the other becomes odor.
The beginning of the end,
The ends that begins with ‘you owe me your life’.

The terror we all bear with our dark skin,
Negro — from the shackles of our hands to casting out of lives.
All our seeds are blown to downwind,
Grains with stones must be sieves.

I can’t breathe, my last word to the world,
Like the confession of a thief on the cross.
For my breath was forced out in a hurry,
And my spirit journeys across.

My wife becomes a sex toy for your amusement.
And my children, modern-day slaves.
My abode becomes abandoned,
And your system tags them ‘misbehaved’.

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