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My Words

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Hear our voices
For they are weak and weary
but speak theories
of African- American men and women
clearly
Our past is eerie
Broken bones and shriveled feet
Men are broken in dead heat
Our existence is obsolete
In your eyes
As i sit here your words baptize
I despise how you treat us as if we were nothing
Lower than the ground you walked on
But I'm a student too
Willing to learn and talk to you
you misconstrue
My skin color as a basis for intelligence
I represent the one percent
Excuse my accent as i speak in big words
and intelligent phrases
Your gazes lookin dumb
You shrink from the words I'm spittin
tightly fittin in your closed mind
For me, i leave behind these words
as a recurring tape, take shape
of deformed monsters
creep under your bed
May my words be the living dead





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