Don’t Shoot


You just don’t fuckin get it

 

It always amazes me how some people

Seem to be experts in fields they’ve never seen,

Know the right directions on paths they’ve never walked,

And know people they seldom acknowledge as such

 

They’re agonizingly unfeeling to a mother’s pain,

Desensitized to how soft her son’s skin is

That it’s so easily penetrated. He carries no armor –

And why should he? He didn’t even have a gun.

 

These correspondents, these politicians,

These CEOS, these majority college students

Groan and sprint to be the fastest out the door when race is brought up

But in their circle of friends, they “joke” around with the n-word

So much you can feel the rope tighten with every roll of that last r

 

But it’s no joke that most mass murderers look more like Darren Wilson

Than Michael Brown, but you double take when you pass a black face

 

And these automatic rifles straight out of Iraq

In the hands of an army of wannabe soldiers

Seem to be magnetized stronger the darker the target

You can look at the stats, but that doesn’t seem to go any good,

Knowing a stop is waiting for the darker brothers,

And it’s a high chance it’ll end red.

 

Too many black boys, who are already forced to be grown by 12

Because there’s no time to wait for 18,

Drop before they can be called men, and they’re forgotten

By those who swore to serve them with their fingers crossed

In the holster and behind the Constitution,

But they remember to check their pockets

To make sure they’re empty.

So please stop pointing your fingers to those with their hands up,

 

Because they’re still yelling “Don’t shoot.”

 

Mauricio Novoa ’14
Contributing Writer

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