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Man is great
Freedom is tangible as glass stars. While it shimmers and shakes under the sky, It burns quickly, flickering out as dusk rises. Beneath the ashes the small ones scream, Filing into the streets below,
I am black. My hair is nappy, and my toes are long. I am black. I love fried chicken, and rap music. I am black.
How can you sit there and do nothing? I ask myself. I might as well get this all out of paper. That must count for something, right? The anger bubbling inside me says otherwise.