It was a gift from Nana. Swimming in his circular tank of water, the fish…
My Black History
I love poetry because it represents me,
not only me, but the people in history.
The many slaves who cried-
held down by a chain,
the many slaves who worked,
starving in the rain.
My ancestors blood flowing through me,
and all that’s expressed through poetry.
The many tears that flow down the face of-
a black sister,
while the black men were beaten,
beaten by a white mister.
The blood that poured out a black child’s skin,
making it seem as if his color was a sin.
A lot of men with dark skin are fighting
to see the stars,
as they are banished away,
banished behind bars.
They probably might die since their-
sentenced to life,
or maybe they’ll get killed,
with a police officer’s knife.
Eric Gardner was put in a choke hold and died,
while a man with white skin,
stood over where the body lied.
A young boy was pierced with a shot,
the name Trayvon Martin,
we never forgot.
A little while back there was a brutal kill,
of a fourteen year old boy,
whose name was Emmett Till
I love poetry because it represents me
not only me but my BLACK history.