Wounded and scarred with shackles in hand
Because they don't belong to this land
No they don't, they don't belong anywhere
That's how God has made it, it's just fair
Said the whites, with disgust in their eyes
But all I could see was their plight.
Their eyes filled with pure despair.
They made them work at such a pace
The sun scorched their arms and their face
And those whip marks on their naked backs
Thorns and pebbles on the rusty tracks
Looked upon by the "rulers of the land"
With canes in hand, heartless they stand.
But louder than the sobbing cries
Of men, their children and their wives.
Beat their hearts so full of pain
They stand as one, the beat's the same.
They made sure they didn't die in vain.
They fought so hard for those that came.
-Tanvi