by Tracy Mckever

Black eye blue by a fist
What kind of love is this?
Battle wounds never heal
Nonfiction but it's so unreal
We must have a plan B
All this misery has got to cease
Someone must make him understand
That if he hits her he is not a man
Real men already know this
Because their mothers instilled it
Black kings sitting high on a throne
To the Black kings getting high in the ghetto
Babies dropping babies like addicts dropping pills
Mentality on the streets: Kill or be killed!
Thousands of people 'dying' to eat
Children 'dying' for the shoes on their feet
Prison time for a crime you didn't commit
Only an all Black jury would be able to acquit 
Acting like animals in a cage
Blaming acts of violence on road rage
Ministers swindling money from God
Human beings being eaten like shish kabobs
Sexually transmitted diseases at an all time high
Many searching for reasons to stay alive
Inside my soul is slowly dying
I welcome you all to my Zionů

Zion by Tracy Mckever

© Copyright 1999. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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