ONE QUESTION FOR TRAYVON

America, supposedly

The land of the brave and the free

But I know it as the land of this mystery

Of how that night, my murderer was allowed to go home scott free

And now, on CNN they speak of his family

Trying to rebuild his credibility

When it was I that was sent to heaven prematurely

And where I met so many other brothers like me

That had somebody remake their destiny

While our mothers still cry on their knees

Asking, Oh God why my baby!

And they are told that we should not have dressed, walked or talked suspiciously

And it fails to cross their mind, that I did not know this dude

Coming up to me with an attitude

Waving a gun

To my mother’s son

Asking me questions

Out to teach some lesson

It’s crazy

Suspicious is how he looked to me

Now I can only watch over my family

Since I am unable to be with them physically

I’ve had so many visitors to my grave

And still no arrest has been made

For Justice

I pray that my mother does not hold her breath

Because if she does, I fear beside me she will rest

For my life, I too had plans

I just don’t understand

Of how that bogus feeling of being superior

Infects an entire race like cancer

And no one has, yet, given me an answer.

Marvin Gaye once asked, “What’s going on?”

But all I want to know is…

America, what’s wrong?