we labor. . . they get paid

we pray. . . they are bless'd

we sing. . . they are idoliz'd

we are invited. . . they show up

we play. . . they get trophies

they gripe. . . we take the blame

they get sick. . . we regurgitate

they swing the machete. . .we bleed from the marrow

they petition for rights. . . we lose our identities

but when we pass away. . . whose side will matter the most?

  © 2006, cynth’ya lewis reed
All rights reserv’d