Her skin as dark as oil
Crack like drying lava,
Her eyes brown as earth
She cries scarlet tears of the
Agony of thier dire ruse,
Open like a wound she is
Time can only expunge her
Times of yore.



Never to see mother nor the smell
The scent of untainted space
She kneels to he who wishes to
Be called master and praised by her
Dark worthless soul,
Never to breath the warmth of the
African sun...she freezes from the pain
Bestowed by he the evil soul theif.



The sun shines not
Her eyes see not
The beauty of mankind,
Engraved in her is a mist
Of thier dark intensions,
Screeching bras* shackles
Bleeding necks,
Sore feet,
Lost tongues,
Broken yore.

Branded foreheads reveal
A new name unknown by its
Owner,
A street paved with bones
Lite by the pain of skulls
A river of our red crismon
Takes us to our death as
The masters jeer ejoying every
Moment of the death of our cores.

A breath to take
A promise to make for
This to never ever recur.