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Slavery

Chains and shackles

On the floor, rusted

No use for freed ankles and wrists

But the clean pair

Rests within our minds

Old scars new wounds

A lashing whip

Brings us all to our knees

We stand alone

But fall as one

Over colors

Colors are art

Are beautiful

Color is not a person

It is not defining

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Written by

jacobo-raymundo

American

Published: Jan 7, 2014
LinesWords: 1558

Notes: A poem I'm writing for my class "Psychology and the African American Experience". If you find it offensive then you probably didn't read what I was saying.

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