s it become of my colour why you treat me different?
Because i’m not from around here ?
Or is it,
Because i don’t fit in ?
But why ?
Why don’t i fit in ?
I’m black, that must be it.
There is no other reason you would seclude me.
With all respect i have shown you,
Nor have i even done wrong by you nor your family.
So why is it that i’m not deemed fit to enter into your circle ?
Why am i in the box ?
I don’t get it,
You’re black too !
Shouldn’t i feel this way around my white friends ?
Isn’t that how it works.
But, then again;
With white people it’s clear,
It’s clear that we’re different the second i walk in the room,
So then the sooner we put that difference aside.
But you profile me;
See where i’m from,
Wondering if your people hated mine,
Judging me based on your confused perception on culture.
Well you listen to me!
My ancients may have had there own believes,
The drums from which their rhythms play impact the heart
In a way your ancients would not understand.
Your ancients may have prayed to gods mine saw fictional,
Not the same.
But here is where we link,
There is one thing for sure,
They all stepped foot on that ship,
Bonded by cold metal cuffs,
So close that the rhythms heart beats became the only thing they heard.
Then set on foreign land to the west of them.
Freedom is what they all sought, together, for us.
To live honourably with our chest high,
So that we unlike them,
We may be seen as equal.
So make judgement based my character,
What i say and do,
If my walk matches my talk.
And not by your prolonged interracial racism.
Because together they fought.