Our Colour ... Our Chains

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Tied hands to feet.
Chained to each other.
Chains whose weights were everything but light.
Bonded to one another,
Together, we were taken.
Like a thief in the night they came,
Raided our villages,
Abused our mothers and daughters,
But our fates, were even worse.
Shipped up in very little clothing.
Our skin colour, the reason for our punishment.
Our skin colour, the reason for our pain.
The right to speak or think, we were given not.
Our lips had locks on them, they drilled holes in them.
Were they afraid that our words stood even more powerful that their rifles?
Into a foreign land we were taken,
With our families miles away, mourning us.
For it was as if we were dead.
We toiled day and night,
Hard labor was our daily bread.
Mockery? The very pillows we laid our heads on
Mocked for having lips a little too big.
Mocked for our hairstyles.
And our culture? Considered to be too primitive and animalistic.
Our women were mocked for their full breasts and buttocks.
Somehow, our divine creator heard us,
After years upon years, of this thing they named 'Slavery', it was banned.
Happy we were, finally free we thought. But was it really over?
Our hairstyles were still not accepted.
Our people couldn't get jobs with cornrows.
Oppression began and they named it 'racism'.
Today, our lips that were considered too big is now the trend.
Our hairstyles considered not too ghetto, has also become a trend.
And our primitive and animalistic culture? Completely appropriated.
Why? These foreigners now find it cool and expect us to forget our past and move on.
Yes, slavery might have died but modern slavery is still very much alive.
Our chains.. Our colour... We stay slaves?