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I am a black man, but i am human first.

Scars that tell a story of how i survied the worst

Senstitive to the hurtful words

As if I was a plant that grew with the weeds

With little to no water, the plant still grew amongst the trees

But devalued by the dandelion and rose, told that it wasn't pretty or precious

Then the oak tree with a thousand rigs, spoke a powerful message

They envy your deep roots, because they tell no lies

Neglect your oil layered skin, because true richness lay deep inside

The cutting of my branches, listen closely and you can hear the silent cries

I, the flower, shivered up and dies

But the strong roots remain

And another flower grew, with the knowing running through it's vains

I was made perfect, by a man highly praised by the dandelion and rose.

Jesus, a man who hair was also wool

I now smile with tears of joy and no longer will I Iisten to the fool