Why can you culturally not let me have anything?
Want to continuously tell me how my art is not true.
Actually still erasing me when it comes to my own color
Where I’m from
What we did for civilization
As life is
I only seem to appear in good times
When not a voice can overstand the eyes of time
To be an artist named dino mite
Told to us through ink and flower essence
A color of a black family
Now my artifacts still left up the Royals to sift through.
Not yet given back to me
So my culture is as always my made up technically for me
Which can never be really seen
Through third eye only I am seen really.