My brain is a train,
Left the station in the rain,
Crashed directly into pain,
Now derailing and deranged.

Who drove onto the tracks?
Put their car into my path?
Now I’m burning in the grass,
Watching everybody pass.

No one’s calling 911,
Do they think I’m having fun?
They look like they cannot see,
Now they’re walking straight through me.

And I just can’t believe
I can’t get up to my feet,
I’m drowning in gravity,
I’m just another tragedy.

Such small things: a farm in the north, a plantation in the south.
A small urban home rather than
A mansion on the edge of an enormous field.
Paved roads and rail road tracks inside cities instead of
Gravel paths through paths of trees and cotton fields.
Business men walking by or a rich plantation owner
With two African slaves at his side.

They can cause conflict, major differences.
Political views and moral issues.
How the country should be run?
How the people are to live?
The laws and abilities surrounding slaves?
Is it right to own another human?