The Black Man
A walk of freedom from the dark days of suffering,
The yoke shattered as the sun shines on his dusty face,
Once Slaved to his fellow man for integument difference.
The toil of his endless slavery accompanied by scourges,
His bare back bent to the sky and the whips of his master,
The Black Man was fervent in his virtuous desire for his good future.
The rusty chains left a shackled scar on his freedom path,
The virtuous future once longed for granted to him,
He's now a master of himself no longer bound to slavery.
With a pure heart of Gold he ascent to abide with his torturer,
Anew beginning for both race as they sojourn in peace,
All to the detriment of the Black Man.
Just like the saying goes “Old Habits Never old masters became wearied of equal rights with the slave,
Soon He was tagged niggard for trying to survive,
In a stound prejudiced once more for his skin colour.
Enslaved once more by laws of the old masters,
The Black Man returns to a mental plantation picking cotton.
Judged By the skin colour the Black Man continues in a race of life seeking equality and servile to Racism.
SAY NO TO RACISM
Copyright © Oboba Rukevwe | Year Posted 2020
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