History Class

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History Class

From the dull words printed on an even duller page
I see the eyes of the fallen twinkle with promise
Of a life gone and spent paying the debt and still remaining cost of being free
I stare at the book and continue to look until the words are blurred with pages and  my unshed tears
Something should be done for all those killed
They should be compensated I feel

I can only imagine being belittled and caged, fought down and stifled, patronized with insulting words and racial slurs
I can only Imagine,.. but is it a wasted effort?

They say ‘history repeats itself’ But how can it, when we’ve come so far from the sugar plantations and cotton fields
The only cotton we pick now are from store racks when buying a new outfit
We kill ourselves trying to impress
By our shoes and the way we dress,
we don’t need a master, we already fight each other down.
No longer caged physically, yet we limit ourselves by our own minds, imprisoning ourselves by our own mediocrity
Stifling our voices, for fear of being heard or taken seriously and coincidentally, the insulting words and racial slurs have evolved to endearment terms.
‘ Dawg, biatch, nigga’
Because spelled differently, it means something else.
The universe is warped, but how can it be stopped
The Motherland got screwed and aborted her offspring from her womb
But why concentrate on the past, when our future continues to loom
Just close the book and try to assume
that we are not unconsciously digging a grave to our own doom.