African American....17 years old,
Across the nation your story is being told,
Shot and killed by George Zimmerman,
And to think that they find HIM as the one who's innocent,
Shot to death with your body on the curve,
Nothing will be ok until justice is served,
But for justice, where should we begin?
Were you shot because of your suspicious hoodie, or was it really the color of your skin?
The truth must be found, then it shall be spoken,
After your story was told, the nation was awoken,
And isn't it a shame how your murder is more like a riddle?
You carried nothing but an iced tea and a packet of skittles,
This is why in the night time, I hate to travel alone,
It's crazy to think that you were murdered 100 yards from home,
At this time, our nation must stand by one another,
To adults, you are their son; but to me, you are my brother,
Until justice is served, things won't be right,
The walk from the store and back was supposed to take 15 minutes.....not your life.