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In you
I see the tears of Mama Africa
I see her stolen glory. Her forged history
I see lies and screaming cries of the rebel child lost to his own greed
I see the poverty stricken woman whose dry breast cannot feed her dying child
I see the bullets, whips and chains they used to kill us
I see the bullets, whips and chains we use to kill ourselves
I see the death of the most beautiful in the world.
The death of the Genesis.