The Treatment of a Black

May 22, 2008
By Aaron Ashton, West Valley City, UT

The Treatment of a Black

I am who I am and you are who you are
But we still have a problem don’t we?
You keep your distance and glance from afar
Because of my skin color you see.

We hold the same feelings and thoughts;
The same interests and ideals,
But you stay away and consistently gawk
At me alone, eating my lunchroom meal.

You pass me in the hall, careful to turn away;
In class you look right through me.
It’s depressing to see, still to this day
That you are discriminatory.

Harsh words escape your lips and tongue;
They’re full of hate and scorn.
You scream that I should be hung and
Make me wish I had never been born.

You continue the path that your father once led;
One full of bitter resent;
You think it’s funny to punch me in the head
And scar me with pain and torment.

Soon your friends begin to join you
And one problem is multiplied to ten.
I stand my ground but lose to two
And realize my life is coming to an end.

Arms pull me up and a rope is brought;
My bloodied face is covered,
The horse runs off and the line is taught
And there goes another brother.

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