Fight to Unite

My splattered blood dries over the newly cemented pavement where my head collided, after my back got soaked and bruised from the fire hydrant cause I'm fighting the tyrant of segregation. You can crush my wrists together in handcuffs, propel fire on my freedom riders bus, or feed me dried crust if you must, but I will still fight. For my brothers were back slashed for being black and my sisters were raped for looking back, and you expect me to stay quiet about that? You can tip your hat, smirk, and laugh at my pride, but if you ask me why I choose to fight with all my might, I'll reply because it's my right to dine at the finest sip some wine with the highness, sit next to the whitest kid and learn how to write; this sight is what I thrive to achieve, while I stand with the King and proclaim my dream, walk with Mrs. Parks even when its dark, I'll march down to Washington, while my stride leaves a mark on history, no longer will the disgusted looks of whites be a mystery, for teachers will stand before a class and tell of his story, what it was like to be seen as sin, and they'll tell the dreadful killing of Kennedy to the minds of children in desegregated classrooms, where they share the same bathroom, not separated by the color of their skin, but united by their character - that lies within.