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Throughout Time

Throughout time I think of what’s mine My skin, for what has meaning And a story full of remorse A period of freedom fighting Beating “frees” And a devastating course A collaboration of cultures Which my ignorance can’t know My chapters filled From an unknown blood flow A perfected past? That lies in my future Of a new view of life To create my perfect world Of characters full of blithe To my honorable ancestry, Do I have to owe a depressed nation? Or does my generation, Feed the hate with prejudice beyond explaination Throughout time I think of what’s mine My hair, for what is thought To be of the ***** tillage Is a collaboration of worlds From opposite sides of the village A mixture of knowledge, May form my belief The soft and coarse strands, That bring much grief Although my sensitivity is taught By my parents sincere cares Can my judgmental attitude Be inherited by my forebears? The only way to know, Is to listen to the few i cant reject these thoughts this undeniable truth Throughout time I think of what’s mine My tone, for what is mocked And individuals try to change My sophisticated conversation And my mature thinking range But can I really blame one side, From example I’ve learned Throughout, my small time A normal life I’ve yearned Am I privileged from my token mother? Or my father’s “mother land?” Back then, If seen Where would I stand? To have my thoughts neglected I’d starve for expression For the racism and discrimination Conveys great depression No matter my history To the back I’d be seated This skin, my flesh a presentation defeated

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006




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