Who Am I
I was enslaved and put on a ship and transported to America; I was
beaten, mistreated and misunderstood. I have the ability to think for
myself, but I'm not allowed to. I can only speak when spoken to. I am
available when they want me, use me or confuse me. I cannot walk with
grace or dignity. I despise the conception of being disposable. They
can lock me up and throw away the key, and that bothers me. Tears are
running and my heart is beating fast, from just thinking about my
past. I hear the sound of the dogs barking, I feel the branches
hitting me on my face. I'm running wild trying to escape this place.
I see the signs all around me saying we don't want you. Oh, how heart
breaking to see the signs, knowing that to them I'm not worth a dime.
America is the home of the free, maybe one day that will be for me.
What have I done to receive so much hate? Could it be that I was born
to go through, to be used for bait. You dislike everything about me,
but still you try to immolate me. I am strong, determined and
beautiful. There's a greatness about me that you want to retain, but
here I yet remain. Look at me, tell me who am I? I am the one that
want a fair chance, I am the one that wants romance. I am the one
that lives for God. I am the one that will not allow you to take
my heart. I am the one that raised your children, cleaned your house,
cooked your food and hated every time your man came into my room late
at night. Yet I lived to be strong, determined and beautiful.
You only saw darkness when you looked at me. My strength,
determination and beauty you could not see. I have yet to figure
out why you hate me.
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