black poet
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Name me as the hope of the slaves
Frame me in my mothers gaze
Let me breathe in open air
Even though we've yet to make it there
Black bodies sway in time
With the drums playing in my mind.
Black people, like paint swatches, come in an array of shades. We can be a deep, rich mahogany, a creamy, smooth caramel, a bold, mysterious ebony, or even a blend of the three.
