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by MiaMac Author IconMail Icon
Rated: · Poetry · Experience · #1730661
Poetry describing past memories
I remember screams in the night and loud gun fights
Babies crying and men dying, in the streets
There is blood everywhere.
The air is stale with whispers
NOT TO FORGET.

I remember running home scared, impaired
Not sure if I was being followed. My life was so hollow
Yet so full of despair and shame. I was lost
In the game of life that did not include me nor my race.
I had no face but I could hear whispers
NOT TO FORGET.

I remember going to school hungry, tired and angry
Just to hear words of slaves buried in graves.
Their cries chilled my soul and burned holes in White sheets
Soaked blook stained towels. Old night owls of the South
Winds of the North blew whispers
NOT TO FORGET.

I remember mama not daddy
Soothing my pain and healing my scars
Keeping me safe from words
That harm and looks
That cause shame, black rain.
BUT I STILL DIDN'T FORGET

That it was she who taught me how to fly
High above dark clouds and grey skies
Blue waters that run deep beneath
The beautiful Brown earth.
Where the past is the future
Hate is no more, a forgotten folklore.
But as for me
I SHALL NEVER FORGET.



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