From the falling razor-rays of the African sun I’m untaught; I’m a bare foot traveler whom his edification lies in the blur caving rocks and wells of African canals.
I’m born under the falling sky colored with blood shed by those who stamped hard earth to voice their birth right ownership.
I’m a fired hill whom their black beauty is starvation to adventurer and hibernated
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quite a powerful story in this poem. well written. your african pride is clearly explained in each line.
i actually really enjoyed this.