Political

O brother, 
Your hands are not of a slave 
Your mind is not of the mentality 
Of our past kin. 
O brother, 
Your sight is set on the ground you walk on 
And not of the road ahead of you. 
Instead of freeing yourself 
Like it is that you are 
You enslave yourself 
Mentally. 
O, brother 
You were not born in chains 
So why do you remain still. 
Have you not noticed? 
Your road is clear? 
Our dirt road has became 
Smooth gravel. 
Have you not noticed? 
That Once road block 
Called 
Slavery, Segregation, and the Ghetto 
Is all clear from this road 
Its gone. 
But O, brother 
Why do you remain still?

The Fear