Poverty is my poetry, struggle is my art.
Black on the skin, I swear I’m golden at heart.
I serve my master with an empty tummy.
“My white idol” enslaved me, his dirt tastes yummy.
Though I’m rich, my land’s riches is beyond my reach.
The fruits of my unpaid labour are enjoyed overseas.
So generous I let a white strange man rule me in my homeland.
I’m golden at heart, break my heart into pieces, I will understand.
My cracked dry lips are moistened by my tears.
“I’m not white enough”, this is embedded as of my fears.
I’m destined for doom, my path leads to my misery.
I’m a hero too, though my story never made it to the books of history.
Will I ever be friends with happiness?
How can God the white man introduced me to, let happen of this madness?
I’m the roots, and this white shark is a flower.
My labour and pain give him this much power.
I’m an African child, awaiting to claim back my lost kingdom.
Instead of your chaining freedom, I seek wisdom.