In the history of existence, the clouds cry;
Denied justice in the courts of the sky, it has to rain;
Revealed by the segregated ponds of tears on a cloud of breathing dust;
What a necessary pain to experience the paradox of foolish wisdom;
The inventions of white opinions for a black breed;
A biased landscape of helpless biology clothed with perceived virtue;
Still the cheat of racial intelligence powered by an ancestral neuron;
Footprints along the rugged walkway of imposed speciation,
Alas, what a beautiful shame that humanity dictates my survival;
The complexity of blended colour in the face of normalized horror;
Pretence coating the admiration of superiority with a bitter smile;
Yet, it's all one mother cell, the same soil and a common end
Finding comfort in the confidence of humble and divine originality;
Though dead by the passion of sacrifice, yet alive on the strength of reason;
Endangered cultivars of my black Homo sapiens? Never mind.
We can never go extinct.
~shua~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem