Talk of the neighborhood
By now, the guilty are aware of what they did
Perhaps as guns emptied--brief joy
An enemy destroyed
Truth is, a baby's soul took flight
While cowards hid
So this is who we are now?
On one hand, murdering our own
While on the other, seeking support for our cause?
"Black lives matter" seems a joke
While gazing at Carmelo's eyes
Until we reign in our own
Maybe we should pause
Since that night, shooters surely live
With the shame of what they've done
But, what if no empathy exists inside?
What if, in this child, all they see
Is a mere hood casualty
A simple consequence of wrong place, and wrong time?
Why was the cherub even there;
Not safely tucked in bed?
Why did no one insist he stay inside?
Someone out there always knows
There's a reward, yet silence flows
And anger, vigils, thoughts, and prayers,
Until next time.
VRW2020
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