I should not go to sleep to news vans on my front lawn.
Bright lights and huge satellites have no place in my neighborhood
I live in a quiet place, a peaceful place
All the neighborhood boys play basketball in the middle of the street
Little girls play dolls on their front steps
The most drama we see is pre-pubescent boys with too much testosterone running through their systems
It's natural, amusing even
I see beauty in their innocence, star studded irises
They have not yet learned the difference between firecrackers and gunshots
The children are still beautiful
I write on a stool on my front porch over a railing
I write and I watch them
I write and I observe, overlook
I write
I write
I write
Why is alright that one of those little girls got shot dead in her own front room
They didn't even have the audacity to shoot her on her front step where she could see it coming
Where they could see her standing
Where they could watch the consequences of their actions fade out in front of them
Why are the boys such cowards?
I didn't know ding dong ditch had morphed into shoot shoot run
How gangsta is it that you murdered a 5 year old girl and you didn't even have the balls to look her in the eyes as you did it
Run and tell your homeboys that you tasted power today and that the steel is still on your taste buds and that your hands are covered in five year old blood that you didn't even get close enough to touch
She had a future
Unarmed
She hadn't even started high school yet
Unarmed
She will never know what it feels like to be in love
Unarmed
Her daddy will never walk her down the aisle
Absorb all the would be potential like the weeping angel. you are
Angel. she was
Dip your taste buds in white blood
And see how gangsta your boys think you are when your death list is filled with innocents
You can't get teardrops tattooed on for infants
I should not wake up to news vans on my front lawn.
Bright lights and huge satellites have no place in my neighborhood.
I lived in a quiet place, a peaceful place
All the neighborhood boys played basketball in the middle of the street
Little girls played dolls on their front steps
They hadn't yet learned the difference between firecrackers and gun shots.
I write on a stool on my front porch over a railing
I write and I watch
I write and I observe, overlook
I write
I write
She died.
And she took the neighborhood with her.