Born Free Poem by tinashe severa

Post war babies, children of black rule
pick on both sides of the cake turned stale bread,
thoughts unpredictable, unstable, aliens in their own mother land
they know nothing about this world, neither do you
and your rusty guns,
wars were fought,
will still be fought,
we do not feed on bullets,
like virgins we cannot conceive from past relations

born free from white rule,
white hate and white disgust,
chosen never to face those treacherous smiles,
to be stared at like dogs, but fed less,
freckled faces, forever sweating and fainting under the African sun,
too sacred to join the rest of their kind,
where their 'supremacy' will cease to be

born under the rod of the same python chameleon,
its only assumed a different shade,
once white...now black, but it has not lost any of its fangs,
the hunger remains, the segregation remains
joblessness and destitution among blacks still remains,
the buildings have grown bigger but emptier
living in this black shell is still unbearable,
born free,
born yes, free no
the chains around mama AfriKa also surround us,
we will never be free