The mime _ The statues (South African struggle) PaRt 1

South African struggle, apartheid, Racial issues, blacks overruled by the whites

Their journey began with tragedy melodies
Tears rolling down counting the milestones of cheeks
For a while they were suspended by the tunes they sang
But indeed to the white, their tune was just a MIME

Legs, hands and boards hitting the air
Dancing to their harmony
Inhumane nudging harshly to their struggle
Their bodies were whipped and swept upon graves
For a while their movement was wide and wild
But indeed to the white, their movement was if they were STATUES

Claps, fists, bullets and sticks
Were used upon their flesh to break them down emotionally
They bled and fed the sands of time, as they were attacked physically
Their pure souls has been obfuscated and disturbed spiritually
But they couldn’t careless of the strain they caused
For the pain they felt was not out of flesh
T’was pain that attacked the heart
Even though they were beaten to meet with the deceased
They indeed stood like imprints of STATUES

Through their days of sorrow
They wept blood for our tomorrow
The pain was heavy to bear, but they still pushed the barrow
A barrow with no wheels
That created a beat, friction and fire within the streets of the Earth
A barrow they pushed with might ascending uphill
With cries and screams that aroused to the heavens
That repeated round and round like echo pedals
But indeed to the white, their movement was frozen like those of STATUES
Their cries were silenced to a MIME