Black Boy Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Black boy

I have lined up
In queue to be declined
The legitimate right
To stay and fight

My color makes me unpopular
I have been termed as ruffian loafer
The person who stands at street
And snatch the valuables whenever felt fit

My only fault
No one has spelt
Or told me clearly
I have to live miserably

I surrender to nature
And stand there
Under tree
For shade and feel free

I have lot more
To explore
And create honorable place
Despite my being born as black boy in race