It is said I'm one of the chosen people
But I feel trapped under a steeple
Relentless with your slavery and genocide
But I won't sit idle, I won't run and hide
And as I get treated as an abomination
Rather than a human of the same nation
Why don't you tell me, blow my mind
And tell me what exactly is my kind?
You make me feel ashamed. All your shame
And daily I manage to rise above the pain
Because you speak of words that are untrue
Lying and saying I'm nothing like you
And what you force upon you call preach
Yet you do not learn from what you teach
And when they don't follow you set out a blast
To obliterate and make them an outcast
All those harsh colors, so many paints
Tell me now, who's the devil's saints?
Written by ©Diana Jillian 6/25/13
Poem,
