How naive are we to believe that the civil rights movement is over?
Is it because we can all vote for our presidents?
Because no black man has to fear a master, running away from the screams?
Because we do not witness the horrors of war on our laptop screens?
The movement cannot cease until we tear injustice away at the seams.

What about the Mexican man emotionally tortured by his coworkers?
He's told he is an alien, a disgrace, not a part of this country.
How do we feel when he takes off his jacket and underneath is the red, white and blue?
The stars run across his chest and the "I love the USA" across his back rings true.
How can he be any less of a citizen, any less of a man than you?

What happens when we find a woman of her winter years in the basement?
Her daughter has ignored her and neglected her since she married a new man.
Suffering in silence, she tries to remember pushing her daughter on the swings.
She convinces herself that her daughter is doing her best, a real princess made from kings.
Until she's lifted up on wings from God, she'll just endure and think of better things.

What about a man wishing to marry his lover?
Should he be ashamed, running away, bleeding pain at night?
The only person that's ever loved him is his best friend and partner.
High school bullying and locker room mockery bringing them clinging ever closer.
Wanting to forget their torturers by locking their hands for forever.

The little American girl by birth and little American boy by choice,
He has been branded an outcast and has been given no voice.
Little things that others take for granted, signs on a bathroom door,
Hoping no one will feel the need to reopen cuts and make his stomach sore,
He continues down the hallway and stares only at the floor.

The truth is that no one will fight for the real minorities.
Not the forty percents, or even the thirties.
Can we rise up for only three and a half percent?
Does America believe they deserve respect or any energy spent?
Do the politicians only want fame and fortune or can they spare a cent?

The civil rights movement was a blessing.
America came together and agreed that women and men of all races are all people.
We all had the same heart and mind.
We bled together, died together, hoped together, a time of a different kind.
Can we continue to see through discrimination and be a band of brothers combined?

Not until we live a life from a new perspective.
Not until we are one America collective.
It isn't over...