In a bag or in his pockets,
He carried the last treasure,
That he would possess.
The last booty.
The last success.
The last supper.
Strolling or skipping away,
Was it night or day?
Fear targeted his colored face.
The blackness of night was at prey.
Who was the victim?
Who was the criminal?
Who was the criminal?
Who was the adult,
Versus the juvenile?
In America
we shoot first.
In America
we don’t ask questions;
Later we dodge responsibility.
We dodge justice.
We dodge peace of mind.
We dodge truth.
The 911 tapes reveal the most.
The man was on the phone,
As he chased down and encountered,
A 17 year old boy with candy in his pocket.
The gunman shot young Trayvon in the chest,
Killing him dead.
No criminal charges against him.
If the authorities finally press him,
He will claim self defense,
But what kind of candy is loaded,
With bullets as deadly as his?
- March 19, 2012
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