I have ate them
My ancestors
Unlike the
slave girl who
died tragically
I am so sorry
for that
from the deep cuts of
their white reigned whips
still a slave girl but
sitting on
The wrong side
She think she is cunning
She think she is the only one
Poor girl
Can’t read
Past their big
empty minds
But she is grown enough
And soon all of them
that have died will have
thickened her into a mighty
Meat soup