His face is dark like the night,
his eyes are lifeless, not bright.
Standing in what seems a queue,
he knows he's next, he's due.
The air smells of smoke and burning flesh,
he closes his eyes and begs to be blessed,
Then they dance around the body,
while shouting, "Which of you Negro's is next?"
Stumbling he closes his eyes,
there was no time to even cry,
as his life was lynched out of him...
And so, there stood the cross,
it was the white demons sun,
and so,
the Ku Klux Klan,
has begun...
By Мαяϊα:;♥
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