Still Black, remains, the African ‘Stain’
What else, was it, supposed to be
All years of, piteous piety’s, pain
Sum up, to make, Black Misery!
Must America, burn, because, Floyd died
Never, Black Lives Mattered, such before
Since they got, their Messiah, crucified
Blacks celebrate it, with grab, and gore!
Who linger, still, in the prison, of their past
And hide behind, Black hides, of their fear
Their faith, in blaming Whites, won’t last
Beyond, the waning, self-pity’s veneer!
The dark shade, of, American dream
Is that, of, self-inflicted, dearth
An ethnic enigma, as it, may seem
How A Black Man, Redeems, His Birth, And Worth!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra