Upon the killing of a black man

The process starts

A pistol cracks

Twenty-five rounds out of a magazine

A black corpse lay in its own blood

Dead on the scene

This, an end to the beating of a heart

A mother’s errant teen

A wife’s prideful mate

A daddy’s future queen

Whom he could always relate

All goes awry

A white cop’s bellowing cry

I was in distress

One bullet wouldn’t cut it

Twenty-five rounds, no less

Nor would my taser gun

Put me to rest

Neither a warning, “stop or I’ll shoot”

No use, when he’s on the run

And me and my adrenaline

Are in hot pursuit

Maybe that phone in his hand

was a gat or a gun

And destruction was his plan

So the DA investigates the case

Wanting no excuse that the cause was race

An indictment alas

Was the happy black people’s sounds

To the DA, the cops’ actions

were out of bounds

Jury selection

The fate of the living

Not of the dead

Are the priorities

In twelve people’s biased head

Let’s send a message

To black brothers, and sister’s

Across the track

The word is justice

And its color, certainly

Isn’t black