What Was My Crime Officer?

What was my crime officer?
That led to you pulling that trigger?
Was my crime pulling my wallet too fast?
Did I not raise my hands in the air fast enough?
Did I move too fast in reaching for my license and registration?
Did my hoodie make you think I was an armed and dangerous gunman when the only armed and dangerous gunman was you?
Did me selling CDs make you think I was loaded with dope so you loaded me with bullets?
Or was it the cigarettes that made you wrap your hands around my throat and end me faster than they could?
Maybe it was the gun a.k.a inhaler tucked in my pocket like the gat you suspected me of carrying.

Is my crime my wide-nose that lead you to believe I was the suspect?
Is it the kinks and curls in my nappy hair, so diifferent from yours?
Or is it the black skin that I wield that failed to shield my body and soul into another hashtag?

This poem is about: 
My country


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