Irony

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The sidewalk was dirty, covered in mud.
The sidewalk was dirty covered in blood.
Oh clean my sidewalk demanded master,
'til all the black is gone,
'til it shines pure white in the sun
'til they realize one color is greater than any other,
And blood shed, black and white shall run together for the last time,
impurities gone away,
So listen as i say,
clean the sidewalk young one,
my fight is already won.
Soon like a disease your kind shall be gone, one after another,
So help me clean my sidewalk boy make my street a cleaner place.

But master if i may, i must say, the irony, of you and me, shall never blow away. I little boy and you old man, I am russet and you not even a tan. You may not live to realize, but the truth will shine through. Although ironic,
there is no true difference between me and you.





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Denali.B. said...
Apr. 14, 2010 at 2:48 pm
I loved this poem, it made me shiver, realizing that this is completly true.
 
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