Trampling the opressed

I don’t see how I can ever tell how hard you hurt me

When you challenge me in my fight against my oppressor

and you come out, pretend to stand with me

but have the nerve to satisfy your greed

and stain our holy grasp

If I don’t understand why you don’t understand what I understand

do I lack compassion?

Are w both a little less man

but in our own separate ways

So can I or can I not

Cut you, rotten and infected finger

from my burdened hand.

I could once make peace

and shake hands with my former oppressor

but you

is there any chance

I wouldn’t have to forgive you?

Can anything ever educate you

about how what we’ve been done to is unjust

and what you are doing

is just empty

worse than dust

I don’t understand how come you don’t understand

when you and I have bled the same blood

been hanged on the same trees

fled to the same forests

that we need to stand together

and keep our pockets empty

of lies and bigotry


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