My face is emblazoned with my story, My history, tribe, culture,
Our heroes glory
Who fought like kings that never tasted victory,
They fought the ghosts,
that fed on their freedom,
their kingdom, sons and daughters, their wealth,
on the riches they were blessed,
They fought the monster that came down like an angel,
disguised as the Messiah,
to save the earthen from the falling fire
We were sold out by their tenderness, generosities, and evil kindness,
We welcomed him into our lands, homes,
to fill his belle on our meals,
to deep his cruel hands,
into the same calabash our food was brought,
even to share our narrow beds,
We were lost and caught like a monkey's fingers trapped in a bottle
In time past our people worshipped this white ghosts,
for their bodies shined like gods,
mortal men who crowned themselves lords
they struck us with rods,
tamed us like their price flock
Our people fought,
to pay the cost of autonomy,
Our heroes were lost to these sacrifices
My color is embellished with my story, our history, and the fallen's glory.
iam.a.poet🖊
©iam.a.poet
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