The Black Man

The Black Man

The backbone of greatness and kings,
A man whose color screams hate's stings.
Born fighting, yearning for acknowledgment true,
A word whose meaning is fear, yet love shines through.

So bittered by time, yet remains gentle and kind,
A giant humbled, with loyalty entwined.
With a heart jagged by time's heavy hand,
A memory of a man with no belonging land.

For time has not been so kind,
Only a shadow of what could have been left behind.
A smile hides error and fault, yet he lives still,
Carrying the weight of the world's unfulfilled will.

Broken and mended, with old snores that never heal,
Clothed in blood and tears, his own heart does reveal.
But day awaits, and suffering will cease,
Tears and wounds wiped away in one embracing release.

Until death delivers him, he rises anew,
Becoming the man he was meant to be, true.
With every step, he finds his inner strength,
And in his soul, a brighter future takes length.