Sorrow

A white boy’s tears

Are seen just as clear

As the sun on a bright summer’s day.

But for the little black boy,

Crying down there,

The clouds, they just cover his pain.

And here and now

When their tears fall to the ground,

They mix in a puddle of gray.

There is no difference to be seen,

In the sad little eyes,

Of two boys,

Who were wronged in some way.

So why does it seem

One boy’s pain is deemed

To be more important

Than that of the other.

The sorrow of one

Is comforted and soothed

While the other

Is just pushed away.

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