Black Child is all you’ve been, Not even a brand new mirror gave you new meaning for your being.
Taken into a dream across the lake of happiness were beautiful souls pray for forgiveness upon the poetic tree, while me and my flaming tears and my false blanket of hope, and my bloody wicked divinity keep on asking myself.
Till this day is black still beautiful? or is black a dead man’s demon conjuring souls that are timid and weak.?
…. I tried to change my sanity for the vast community, changed my religion for my family, changed my sense for life, changed my senses for the population , but still I ask myself, What is enough for one to be accepted and treated fairly… Is fairly even fair when we have to be treated differently just because we don’t look the same or smell the same, is this the equilibrium of Life and its meaning?
Why was I made different if I wanted to be treated fairly? I know I’m not going to start blaming the Lord for different races.. But I ask myself what’s the meaning of all this…?