Mothers Milk

The barbed wire,
It cuts deep when we try to jump it,
Leaving gashes, bloody grins, taunting recollections,
White hoods on one wing, fists raised on the other,
Chains bind weary feet, and tortured young minds,

Both sides know of the slaughter,
The baggage handed down from generations past,
Drumming on the cages of their rational thoughts,
Swallowing the key, never to be recovered,
Along with innocence, naivety, and morals,

How long will the racist threads run through the tapestry of
life?
Are we forever to sit on opposite sides?
For as long as we kill the prophets, the fists will rage,
The good will lie dormant, but why?
For we all drank mothers milk.