He was a man
Black in complexion
Treated bad for his look
Never given to him was honour
As he wandered who his creator was
His heart was pure
But seen as, like his skin
He Was belittled
And in fetters,
Made to do things not for him
As he was no human to them
He couldn't suss everything of one thing
Knowing that the same of theirs
Was the blood flowing in his veins.
Heard of hell,
But never knew it couldn't come to man before death
Life to him was a bane in itself
As he Wad treated with remiss
Turtored to him was, is
And always will be an understatement
His rights had been buried before him
For he suffered in pain with agony
The hate with passion was what he got,
Life was beautifully ugly to them
As he could not foil
And was treated gruffly
Then left to mope
For it was easy to feign happiness
He could but think
Of his generation to come
If this fate was their inheritance
For streams of blood to endlessly flow
His thoughts went with him
To a place he desires
The GRAVE, where fornhim lies peace.
Luckily for his descendants
Shoes ideology was not of, "will this"
To stop this witless act of madness
Of the uncircumcised.
