Death of my History

It's no mystery
I at a young age I've seen everything
Brutal beatings
People hanging
Fires catching blaze
Churches..houses..
Young children watching
I seen all these through these eye
Death of my history
My culture genocide
Forced families to run and hide
All because of foolish pride..
I cried..
They died over stupid lies
Who was to believe what my ancestry
Death of my history...
We ran
Too many of them had noose ready
Instead of trying to understand us
They wanted to get rid of us
Truth is because they were afraid of us...
There cure of our cultural disease
To elminate
Exterminate
What they feared
Torture and belittlement
Dragging across the ground
Danging from tree limbs as they all crowded around
Pointing and cheering
As feet kicked and blood spit from our lips
They roared..
They laughed..
Pictures were taken not to be mistaken for remorse no...
To remember...
The smell of burnt flesh was like waking up to coffee
In there cup..
Chard bodies piled up
Graves go unmarked..
My face in utter shock as I watch...
Mouth dropped and screams heard on the inside
Forced down because I was told to be quiet and hide
I lived today in order to relay the horror scene
I witnessed..
I seen..
So much through these eyes...
The death of my history...

Lady R © 2013