Once the Slave took charge

I was brought up in the Red
but turned Blue
all because I wanted to
Fighting with opposition
could not be my position
They needed me,
but did not want me to Be
The many who refused to see
hated me, despised me
and thought my place was reality
From the Good Book,
I took
careful not to directly look
at those who shook
the cook caring for the crook
let off the hook
by the one pounding on the nook
Obscene and up high
that gavellous stick caused my cry
Yet, they wonder why
I chose Blue in my eye
Days of seeing Red
are now dead
Today, As I lay my head
on top of my bed
I remember those who once said,
“Know your place, just to save face”
Savor the taste of the bloody trace
who all fell before
just so You could even the score

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