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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required THE BRUISES THAT NEVER SHOW You think because that I am black the bruises never show Yet my skin though black, is not any different down below My blood spills just like any other of my sister or brothers My folks, wife and children will still cry, the same as others Yet still, beat on me thinking I am black, it will not be seen Put in the extra effort, until it is nothing short of obscene With all my bodily breath gone, until you no longer hear it My life force leaves me until I am nothing more but a spirit But, I will rise again in the voices and the hearts of others No matter what skin colour the same sisters and brothers On being caught, the white perpetrator’s evidence twisted Never mind the injuries as when up in court, went unlisted It is only a black man it seldom ever counts just so wrong The white men leave court free never hear the birds’ song Their watchful eyes upon you as following you everywhere Once dead; they will pick up on your bones without a care Black or white they will feast, to them, colour is no matter Meat is just meat; once it's placed upon their silver platter But as they drop their well-indulged spoils upon your face With a lesson embedded on your so white skin shall grace Who are you to judge a person by the colour of their skin As one day it will be your turn to be where they have been Indiana Shaw . . .
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