Man of my kind,
How do you survive,
In a world like this,
With so much against?

Who have not accused you?
Both enemies and lovers,
When you think you’re free,
There comes the black painter.

When will you be totally free,
From opposing forces?
Is it right in the grave?
Or on your way out?

You have been labeled,
Everything and nothing left,
From an oppressor to a brat,
By the same people you love.

How will you look at them,
Every time they kick against?
They bridge your...