I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings Part 3

A sip of the lungs

A beat a stop

The substance of peter is no longer alive

They say it’s a 3 to 7 for the brain to survive

Contrary to the ichor giving the negro the appearance of dead or alive

But come without a doubt and the seed of a negro is the luxury of the spic and a spout

Sprouting from the outside topside out

Her crown is often subject to doubt

His skin a bullion trial often leaving others to wonder where he got his yellow-brown

But her strength is just as alive giving birth to an amputated child

Perched on a cacao where his skin doesn’t smile

I know why the caged bird sings

It doesn’t preen, it doesn’t fly, it doesn’t play, or keep an eye

It is not a member of you or I

*Just to help you with that first half:


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