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Emmet Till
June 3, 2013
The Cotton gin fan weighing me down,
As my body sank to the ground,
Beaten bruised beyond repair,
I was only fourteen when I was found dead.
When they fished my body out of the river,
When they told the man he was not a killer,
That I deserved what I got,
As my body began to rot.
At my funeral thousands came,
To see how my body was slain,
In an open casket I wore a suit,
To show the world the things they’ll do to me and you.
© Anonymous
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