The N Word

This word, the N word,

you don’t call me that.

I’m black, yeah,

and God know I’m proud to be

in love with my dark skin,

my kinky hair, my stylish style.

Don’t slave me with your slang.

The N word … It’s not a color.

The N word… It’s not a race.

You don’t used it,

You don’t call me by this name.

It brings a past of pain and hate

brings the handcuff, brings the chains,

The lashes and the shame.

Brings the suffer of being captured

And be forced to be a slave.

I’m black, yeah, very black, yeah

It’s the color of my roots,

it’s the color of my land.

It’s the color of my hair.

I’m black, yeah, very black, yeah.

A free black, that’s what I Am…

Don’t try wound me with this word.

The N word,

Only, If the color of your skin

Is comparable with me

Show me affection,

and empower me, therefore.

Is like a pat on my back

That warmth my core.

The N word

You don’t call me that.

This is a past that I want to forget.

(It still hurts).

This is a pain that my soul, still carries on.

(carry on)

it’s the pain of being ripped from your land

to a foreign land to be slaved.

It is the remembrance of the inhumane.

It’s the negation of the freedom

because of the color of your face.

The exasperation of losing and no crying.

The frustration of seeing and no saying.

See the whippings, see the harsh, see the rapes,

the brutalities, the floggings and despairs.

Living in fear, with the fear of misbehave.

With the limitation of “knowing your place”.

It is a curse.

It’s the transfer from happiness to sorrow to shame.

I’m black, yeah, very black, yeah

It’s the color of my roots,

it’s the color of my land.

It’s the color of my hair.

I’m black, yeah, a proud black, yeah.

I’m a free man, still fighting to be free.

I’m a human being, still waiting to be treated.

Don’t slave me with your word

I still, will fight for it.