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Where Is My Home?

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Where is home? My family, my life
A tear falls from our face
The pain, from the one they call master,
Excruciating
What is he a master of?
Pain, hatred, cruelty, the whip?
For he is not a master of me
For he certainly has our hate, our murderous glares
People are not meant to be crammed into small places,
Like livestock, to be bought and sold
A tear falls from our face
Beaten for your sickening pleasure,
Master? Of what, you tell me of what
For he is not mine
A tear of anger and rebellion
You beat us when we are weak and cannot retaliate,
When your bully-boys are backing you
When we are defenseless, you strike, coward
A pain, in between my shoulder blades,
Burns like a roaring fire, you call it ‘brand’
A tear of agony and confusion
Like livestock? To be bought and sold
What is it for? To show the whites what we are?
A different color?
Stolen, beaten, tortured, furious beyond belief?
They laugh at our screams, cowards,
to stand just out of our reach
are you afraid of us, the darker skinned? Why?
They laugh at our agony our futility, our pain
They think it is only physical, but no
We miss our loved ones, our families, our people
Our homes, our tribes, our homeland
But
What is home? Where is home?
Another tear falls from our face





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