In the Ghetto

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I'm tired of watching the news.
Tired of the acquainted violent crews.

Tired of the un-targeted shots taken.
Tired of the children who sleep, but never awaken.

The cemeteries have no more space.
All because of the discrimination of race.

Because people think they can hold another persons life in their hands?
Because the victim misunderstands?

Because all of a sudden no witnesses are in sight?
Yet, there were many people who saw what happened that night.

But no one has the heart to stand up and tell the truth.
Too late, that innocent child is already dead in a suit.

All anyone can do is wonder why.
And ask if it was really that person's time to die.

Why wasn't he protected that day?
Why didn't God answer when I pray?

Now in the blink of an eye and my final breath...
I wonder if my two older cousins truly deserved death.

I wonder if a day will past.
A day that won't be anyone's last.

As I'm laying the flowers on the cemetery floor in this basket,
I wonder why my two cousins had to be the ones laid to rest in a casket.





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