After the sun goes
they hang low.
Suspended…
swaying to
and fro.
Human piñatas –
beaten,
dishonored –
blow in the breeze
like withering leaves.
Daughter of the big house
parted her knees,
covered her lover
and said it was we…
N!ggers!
She claims,
to my chambers
they came
in the night.
Black bodies
burned under moonlight.
But you wish to make
AmeriKKKa great
once AGAIN.
- HymnAgen