Come; follow me down the Trail of Tears

A trail of woe, a trail of fear

Witnessing sickness, witnessing death

Watching those poor people take their last breath

While all the whites watched as they stood on their land

The whole situation was never planned

It had all started in 1830

When Natives had homes

Every branch had a birdie

Then the whites, they came and liked what they saw

And soon after that, they made it a law

Families clinging to each other

Being take from one place and moved to another
Both the natives and whites knew the land wasn’t as good

That’s why the whites hadn’t taken it, or else they would

Come and look at this sad stricken way

And think how you would feel if you were just “removed” one day

As you follow the path it can make you think

How everything can be taken in just one blink

Think of those people who had survived the long walk

The memories burned in their mind and locked

And do you know what the worst thing about this story is?

Not the death, or the pain, or the anger that fizzed

Not the cruelty or the people watching the trail walkers like some show

Not the difficult walk that had taken a blow

I will tell you the worst part, I will tell you out flat

If the whites just asked, the Natives would have shared land

Just. Like. That.