His Legacy

They care not of who I am, but
what I am.
I have seen the terrrible things that have
happened to our kind.
The broken bones and scarred hearts.
They never heal. I would know.
I was there.

I have witnessed the killings of many.
My brothers fought to save me, my mother
fought to take care of me, and my father fought
for our freedom.
They were all killed. One by one they were killed in the
bloody streets.

I now carry their scars, I know what to do.
I will avenge their death with my freedom.
Murder is in my hands as I swing with brutal
force and crack his white skull which now turns red.
Tears sting my face as I rampage through the streets
beating and getting beaten. My father would be so
proud.

That was my life awhile back, now
I march with force for freedom. Singing my
heart out so they can feel my pain.
The King by my side holding my hand as we march as one.
We have been to jail and back with
only love in our hearts.
We do not discriminate, we believe in
integration.

Days of marching through the streets,
that remind us of all our fallen brothers and sisters,
we fight for our rights.
I admire the King's patience, his tolerance.
No matter how many cans, bottles, and trash are thrown
towards us, he still sings with love.
He is my saviour, my friend and my leader.
He glows as he marches, alive and aware.

When push comes to shove, he walks through it.
I will not avenge my family's death with
violence, but with love.
I will not give up.
My battle scars are forever a reminder of what was
and what could have been.
If the King had not found me bleeding in the
streets, I would not be alive today.

Everywhere I look, I see violence
and death.
As the days go on the totals decrease,
things are quiet.
The day the King was killed, I was torn.
I could not cry no more, for there was no more
room for tears.
I will carry on his legacy for freedom.
We all will rejoice as we yell up into the skies
"Let Freedom Ring!"