Miscommunicated

I have a briant mind with no education.
I'm just a poor child that no one sees or hear.
I am miscommunicated.
A lack of reservation.
My words can cut you like a transformation.
My word so thick and proud.
My skin color is undefined.
I was build from wisdom because my ancestors was denied the rights to be free from being mistreated.
I am that sheep wrapped beneath the sheets.
The cotton that I sleep on are reminders of my ancestors blood. 
The ghetto is my ancestors tears from being tide up for so many years. 
Til this day the ghetto communities still tide down with so many kills.
Will this pain ever heal.
My color is Kings and Queens like once we lived.
I can't be wiped out. 
Once mixed with me with another I will stain the other like a bleach color.
I am a product like no other.
I have a briant mind with no education.
I'm just a poor child that no one sees or hear.
I am miscommunicated.
It saddens my soul as I idly standby watching the youth with an unguided idolized mind.
Misleaded by the shackle from poverty.
How can my crown stand tall from my scalp to the ground if I don't even own the ground that I walk on. 
One thing I do know, loving me is loving my skin and loving my skin is knowing who I am.
Knowing who I am is knowing my ancestors died for me.
My ancestors died for me because they knew who I was.
Who we were; was Kings and Queens that everyone feared because of the color of our skin can wipe out the whole world with one single woman and one single man that shared one single thing. That one single thing is brown colored skin.
Brown color skin has always been Miscommunicated.