Nico Samuels |
What is The deferred dream?
Was it the muted sound of marching feet
Worn and raw from taking to the streets
time after time
looking for a broken promise
of a better yesterday
Misanthropes canceling out my brother’s good works
As they burn what’s there’s
With orator’s speaking fire and brimstone
Profiting on stagnant water
I leave you to your own word, Hughes
Where are you now when the sun is blazing
Devilish crust all too present
My scratches can no longer be counted.
They blister with false promises.