Marked bodies Marked since birth Marked with beauty Marked with a curse Marked cuz we’re black Marked cuz we’re poor Marked cuz our society Always wants more America the beautiful America the marred America the dream America the scarred They live to want it We die to flaunt it Worship it so much They put God’s face on it Dying for them Nikes Dying for that check Dying cuz we’re fattening The White man’s check Keeping us in check Keeping us in control Sell the illusion of the vote The Ballot and the poll Money dropping like rain Falling on our scars Lashes from the profits Pain in these bars Poverty defines us Wealth reminds us That our worth is only rooted In the bling that surrounds us So when it rains and it pours Remember that thirst Cuz their sole intent Is to send my brothers to the hearse They are marking us for something Marking us for nothing Selling false dreams But my brothers they are Kings My sisters they are queens Created with Love Designed for peace Sent from above
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Authorfrom the poetic mind of Olivia Keene...(my mama gave me that pen name) Archives
March 2017
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