America

If you think I am mad Then you are wrong I am indifferent to how my ancestors were done Raped, beat, slaved and hung Yet you say we still singing yesterdays song Babies scorched in cotton fields Farming and harvesting for someone else's yield Nationally known as Willie Lynch I'm dropping facts I'm not giving hints This is about what they did Not what they didn't We are the true decendants They stole our very remembrance Once they took off the chains They left psychological scars and stains Yet they got no repirations Can you equate to their pain Let alone this conversation Not meant to offend Its about ancestry dividends Every nation had its hand in America's Melting pot When Christ returns things will get hottt No more identity theft They painted his face And tried to hide what was left War=America Prisoners of war = 12 tribes of Israel We got a bad deal Don't get upset I'm just keeping it real They took the natives land Then offered a helping hand Put them on reservations Called it social meditation They took ships to reach the 12 tribes They came with ruffles, bullets and bribes Africans and Arabs sold them out For spices, wine and guns Nothing is new under the sun This is not just another poem So if you think I am mad Then you are wrong I am indifferent to how my ancestors were done 07/13/2018