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Young Spirits
When we were young,
The days were longer.
We had no worries,
We had the hunger,
To live day by day.
Skin color didn't matter,
Nor did the amount of money.
The "Social Ladder"
Didn't appeal to us.
We were kids-modle citizens,
Innocent, caring and carefree.
Not afraid of each other's race,
It was just you and me.
Now our families are at war,
Because they think color matters.
Not just that, but they say you're "poor"
And my family thinks its bad.
I wish they were more like children,
And able to look past,
The different colors and dollars,
Like we have all don't in the past.
Our blossoming friendship,
Is being destroyed.
Because of stupid reasons,
That we were always able to avoid.
What does it mean anyway?
my skin is light,
And your's is dark.
That's no reason to fight.
My family was born into money,
And your's was not.
They act like its a sin,
That you had to work for what you got.
Maybe if they had to,
They would see that life's a game.
And no matter our differences now,
In the end we're all the same.
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