My ancestors sold to their white masters. <br />And soon their bodies become trees of tainted fruit. <br />A shame that Porcelain skin taught to scorn darken flesh <br />and generalize that all were danger, scum. <br /> <br />Once their were unity among my people. <br />Now divison, based on shades of the same flesh <br />men of shade impregnate their woes and leave their mistake behind. <br />The ideal gangstas <br />The diamond platted teeth <br />When will we rise? <br />From the televised riches <br />When will we rise? <br />From our uproarious attiude <br />When will we rise? <br />From the chromed wheels <br />When will we rise? <br />From the mentions of an oreo <br />Maybe these broad shoulders <br />hold hurt and disappointment of these men<br /><br />aiden murdock<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/point-of-view-7/
