On This Field

On this field Is where I was born And in these fields I will be buried they say I watch my mom pick cotton For the white colony Her soft hands turned rough as the gravel road because of the work she has to do for her family Her hands are so painful she cannot even cook for us Work is what the call it But Slavery is what it is Dear God I am tired of seeing my mom feeling pain in every bone of her body Day by day complaining about the hot sun that burns her and that no one really cares All they want to know us how much work she has done only to end up getting paid peanuts while having kids to feed Dear God I know you created these fields but you did not create man to abuse any man in this world you created but still we face this suffering why God? On this field is where the white feel privilege to brag through our parents hard work On these fields is where they get to feel power I guess that's Slavery Watching my mom get beat down each time she tries to rest Or gets forced to sing a lousy song about the fields in the hot sun which gradually changes her skin tone It's bad but she does it But now I know the kind of pain slavery comes with and with that I learned to become stronger because even if the try to break us they can't but they can only bend us On these field is where I was born In these fields is where I will be laid to rest