Rusty air and the Indian

It's true I forget sometimes
Amidst the complex black and white rhymes and songs
The ones of smarts, riches and earth beings doing right or gone wrong
All the red faces that glowed like the sunset at their birth
And to forget colour is one thing for sure
But to remember images distant and rare
It is a beautiful thing, emotive and art
But even more so its also real still and what sets us apart from the red who are ill from the ignorance and near extinction they suffered
For it is the other that we should be pondering over too
Not just our own race or the opposite
But the ones maybe, just like you...