Jan 2014
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
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
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.
