Revolutionaries
seem to be that of color
Black
Brown
Whatever you
are
But if
you are white
Then you
have no right to complain
You are
white
Caucasian
Cracker
Gringo
Life is
easy for you
You got
all the money
Right....?
Wrong!
I am
talking about the lost warriors of literary battle fields
The artists
whose parents said goodbye to
The drop
outs told to grow up
The lost
souls given to the work force to figure it out
Who is
here to speak of you?
Who is
wondering will you make it?
I know
this feeling like a tattoo from birth
If I was
ever found to have grown up recite my poems to me
If I were
ever to wear a tie, steal it from me
And if I
am ever to put my pen down from paper and shout out
Show me
the ground
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