The King Poem by Ashlee Mortimer

Too much of ones whom colours shine bright.
Wholly white was when the world was blind to see
the colour of the life, diversity left sight.
With anger, disgrace to mad to be.

Ripened scars built through shunning away,
too vast to cover wounds still raw.
One to help the flaw stand still today
while two a kind in pain stand still in awe.

Like autumns breeze will blow away, fear will tear all bare.
The life, the love, silenced in vain
the truth forbidden to be spoken aware.
Took one ‘King’ to have a dream and simply explain;

“My country ‘tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing”
“From every mountainside, let freedom ring.”