The whip cracks with its cutting tail
As it rips apart my shoulders
I’m pained, but hopeful.

I’m covered with dirt and oil.
My mom is murdered with one shot,
All because she complained that the day was to hot.

The back of the bus is where I’m forced
All because my skin is not the same color as yours.
I’m thrown out of schools, supermarkets, and bathrooms.
I’m just like you, even though most wouldn’t believe that.

You would think hope is the last thing that crosses my mind.
I’m here to tell you, you’re very wrong.
They can’t tear my down.
I’ll always wear my beauty crown.

Wooden huts, smaller than a mouse,
With no food or water to nourish.
But this doesn’t mean I’m unable to flourish.


Guns fire their song of death.
Innocent lives being forcefully put to the test.
Concentration camps stand far and wide,
But I know this isn’t where I’ll breathe my last breath,
Of goodbye.

The cotton calls my name,
Picking the fields is my life.
I don’t fear the whites,
I know some are great.
Someday I’ll be out of here,
And I’ll stay hopeful.

You would think hope is the last thing that crosses my mind.
I’m here to tell you, you’re very wrong.
They can’t tear my down.
I’ll always wear my beauty crown.