Enslave Poem by Aden Zincke

Hear the distant voices, crying on the wind
See the look of anger etched upon our skin
Feel the drums of anguish, pounding a tattoo
Taste the blood of innocence flowing into you

You tried to take my freedom, you cannot have my land
You try to break me, I rebel, You cannot understand
You've assumed that you can rule us, get me to behave
You've taken all that I am but my soul you won't enslave
I long for the smell of Autumn, hunting in the grass
You strike and beat the memories but somehow they surpass
The blood of my ancestors run thickly through my veins
You dream your dreams of grandeur, yet visit us with pains
My people are now your slaves, we used to run free
Wild among the lions, talking to the trees
You've come to our Home and demanded it be yours
And given us your sickness, granted us your sores
You say we are beneath you all because our skin
Is golden shades of coal, Is this our only sin?
You've given me a curfew, put signs where I can't go
The places i was born to, where my heritage grows...

Now hear the distant voices dying on the wind
See the looks of anger vanished from our skin
Feel the drums of anguish fading from the land
Taste the blood of innocence flowing from your hand.