In My Eyes (A Plantation Owner's Story)

Sweltering New Orleans sun Murdering my skin Sweet smells of tobacco plants Wafting through my nostrils Glorious sight of success In my slaves' eyes My skin is as white as my cotton plants I smell of the riches they produce I am made round by the delicious foods they prepare Merciless and inhumane In society's eyes My skin ensures my accomplishment and respect With my nose in the air as a Negro passes, acceptance Prosperous and wealthy is my persona A Leader In my eyes? Their bleeding and calloused hands and feet Their smell of want Their backs bent over in never-ending labor Rips out my heart As I turn my head