He's being followed in the shadows
He's certain. He's uncertain why.
His girlfriend tells him to run,
His steps become slightly faster,
Neither a sprint nor jog.
A man after all, he doesn't fear
The shadows in a free country.
Unarmed and unsuspicious,
He walks on the sidewalk.
In his pocket a Skittles bag,
No guns, no drugs, no knives.
He was just walking home.
He only returned in a body bag
With a bullet to the back.
White shooter to a victim, black.
How do you even make sense
Of a vigilante, self-appointed.
Going hunting on a neighbourhood
Armed against unarmed people,
With some sort of deluded
Divine license to shoot and kill?
Given the story vice versa,
A black man shooting a white,
For "self-defense" unprovoked,
Would make no headlines, but
Certainly some prison lines.
How is it that there is not even,
Not even an arrest and charges?
He was just walking home.
He only returned in a body bag
With a bullet to the back.
Justice for Trayvon is in lack.
Wren
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