Chains locked at my feet with the key outta reach
My soul lost among many other thoughts
Fear in their eyes and their tears on the floor
The history of me, felt this way before
All they heard were words, all they saw were blurs
Their words slurred with their accents heard
Stolen from their land and sold away to strangers
Children's lives just begin but it's faced with danger
Hearts broken as blood is shed.
No needle or thread can fix the mess made
But left afraid to be approach by a yellow man
When they can, they try to run far
A bullet meets their head which makes it hard
No child left behind, has yet to be defined
But hypocrites of America tried that lie
What a messed up place to be in
No space to stretch their limbs, no place to rest
It's really not the best, but they could care less
Their sitting in pee and eating scraps
They could care less, they weren't in the mess
It's sickening to me, how about to you?
They couldn't care less cause they weren't in their shoes.
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Comments about this poem (Broken Souls by Triauna Hall )
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