The racial rampage of rancid words,
Never to be heard.
Our souls reflect over the recounts of how our ancestors were were raised,
As the black slaves.
The repulsive words that ran throughout our ancestry
Without a tinge of redeem, remorse, resent
We struggle to relive our past
As those black slaves sent to their graves,
Unable to rectify of their "mistakes",
Unable to reach those high rates.
The rejection, the repugnant words,
The rambling on of or kind,
As slaves we had to face.
But we lived up to or name,
As those black slaves,
Leavin' behind no remains.
We look upon ourselves today
Thinking of what we could have made
Of all those black slaves
That were sent to their graves