they shot him

when I tell her that the colour of their skin , the darker it is , a brighter red seems to be stamped with a target on their backs , she laughs 

and she tells me that there's nothing I have to worry about 

when I ask my mom why the way black lives slip out of our hands doesn't strike her down with fear , she has no answer to feed me this time 

I tell her , mother , a mother always deserves to see her child live her out I tell her 

what do you do when that right is ripped away from you like the life of a young black boy , barely the age of noon 

what do you do when a father is stolen from his children 

what do you do with the colours red white and blue fade into black like a funeral , like the funerals that we don't get to see 

swept under the rug like it doesn't pile up

like the blood doesn't stain the hardwood floors and the hands they bled on 

what do you say when gunshots have turned into death tolls 

when there are too many names to put on one tshirt 

when white men in uniforms just don't mean the same thing anymore , I wish 

that I could live in her world 

 the world she was given with no corruption and no pain 

Because it's so easy to "not see color" 

when it's being erased 

i was there when it happened 

sirens sang comforting lullabies to the grieving 

helicopters tried to fan the fever but fanned the fires no drying tears from tear gas 

it's different when it's this close to home 

it means something else when it could've been your brother your father , the girl you went to school with it's different when you can hear the screaming if you just open the front door 

"enough is enough" we scream it from raw lungs , hearts sore , feelings numb

we've seen this all before 

we all bleed the same blood but there's more stains in white skin than we'll ever get to know 

ripping through dreams like bullets through flesh , neighbors look through door mesh , wondering if this is all just God's test