They take our words and change their meaning

And for us their always gleaning

With loaded guns at our throats

Brought our ancestors on their boats

Took their native tongue

After “freedom” they let them hung

No one knows the exact amount

Of the souls we can’t account

But us we feel it in the air

Those heavy cries full of despair

We think of those without names

The children who should’ve been playing games

We think of those cooked in pots

The ones whose graves won’t ever have plots

We think of those experimented on

Violated, destroyed those they want us to forgone

We think of the scraps we were fed

As we swallow our hefty spread

We think of those whose minds they broke

Keep our eyes open, staying woke

We think of those who were marked

The rebellions that they sparked

How they fought to be free

How they fought those to see

The humanity that lies within regardless of the color of skin.