Wed, 03/20/2013 - 00:23 -- Abby

Looking into the eyes of a young girl
The story is told even now
The past is behind us forever
But who's to say that the world's any better?

The dream for the children
Was spoken out loud
A memory, fading with time
The wishes of kings
By both name and soul
Atypical, altered
Supposedly so

The eloquent testimony
In a rapacious place
So courageously presented
By the discriminated race

A "symbol of purity"
Destroying their pride
They still stood back up
They continued to fight

The young girl stares back
And I think of many things
Among them;
The harmony of the two colors
As piano keys

Then again I must wonder,
Why were white men "so much better"
If their own color, defined, is the presence of them all?

What satisfaction
Can come from no action
Adhering to the words of the kings?

Why is it today
We won't stand up to say
That we haven't stopped doing those things?

"Old habits die hard"
So the saying goes
Perhaps that is why
There still seems to be
Segregation, and no trace of sympathy

The little girl smiles
She holds out her hand
Perhaps it's my chance
To make one more stand

Caramel and Milk
Chocolate and Snow
Hand in hand
Down the sidewalk we go
Singing a song
Of forgotten things
Singing the song
Once spoken by kings.


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