Black of America
America By: Tia Rowe
America, the Great for it, is modest
America, the Brave for it, is a coward
America, the Free for it, glistens with its chains
Look at this majestic land
For their waves the internal flag of despair
Fire By: Tia Rowe
We curse the man that points the gun
How dare they point at our race!
Without fear of truth
Repentance non-existence
Eyes cold as sin
They point, aim, and fire!
Dark By: Tia Rowe
Dark
My Skin
My Hair
My Eyes
The shadow that lingers behind
But, not my mind
For that is light
This poem is about:
Our world