BlackHistory

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Dear God,I don’t understand my purpose,I don’t even know what’s destined for me, I don’t know why you have given me this life,But can you help me understand?Can you lead me down a path,Regardless of trials or tribulations,To become the woman I’m s
Our darkened skin this phase which is the most prime phase will never end love your skin God created you in, with all that melanin we will never become evanescent
My father was a good nigger Who stood over six feet He called Mr. Burke's daughter "Ms. Betty" Even though she was only three   My father was a good nigger Who allowed himself to be called "boy"
She asks me, Quieres café? And I respond you are too sweet. Too sweet to the point that I don’t have to take a sip from this Colombian coffee Because you helped me rise when I fell deep and saw nothing but fake images.
Hopes and dreams, That always seems, Out of her reach. Broken lives, And stolen Dreams. Two winged sky roamer,
I sometimes wonder if the greats of this country perceived it to be as great as this country would lead us to believe I wonder if Langston Hughes counted bodies that dropped on his block like I count droplets of innocent blood on mine
Why are we only known for our Stereotypes?
A book—Book of Life you call it? What can your Book tell of the supposed life I have chosen? Can it acquit me of my unwilling contribution to the institution that has enslaved my mind, soul, and spirit?  
A mother, stolen of her children later had to hear the countless tales of their fate The engulfing waves of the sea filled their lungs before they could cry,
Only if you knew. Only if you knew what we had to endure, whipped as a slave as my knees hit the floor. Getting back on my feet was more than ashore, as the hate spreads through the mouths like a cold sore.
Black is a color but it's not me, its just a title they put on the crayola crayon next to the gray. But its gone far more than anything before, never has this been a subject to explore.
  “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen
Remember when we were strange fruit hanging from the trees but never ripe enough to be picked? Remember when we had no voice but a singlye syllable could get us whipped?
What happens in homes wherefathers are rolling stonesand the temptations ofthe street are open so oftenthat any other optionis unknown.  
Oh James   I've read your biography Our lives have similarities I am you-you are Me Religion played a role in our lives Namely Christianity At some point we were involved
african-american, caucasian two colors become one they say a war between the two has ended but the war between all races has only just begun.
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