Something That’s Ours

I run through the sun-lit fields we live on,
But nothing feels like ours.
Mama tends to the chickens and hens,
But nothing feels like ours.
Papa is a loyal dog working day and night,
But that white man still says nothing is ours.
This land belongs to me, he shouts
And although we are not slaves, nothing is ours.
When those freedom soldiers fought,
When our fearless leader spoke,
They hoped for something that could be ours.
Thank you,
For freedom,
Something that we can call ours.
But people still hurt,
They are living in pain,
In starvation and poverty,
And that is something
That no one should have to call theirs.

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