Today another human
was buried in the dirt,
and other humans gathered round,
and cried because it hurt.
And nothing in the time that he
had spent upon this earth,
could, in those tear-filled mourners' eyes,
diminish that man's worth.
No label he had ever worn
could sway their human hearts.
With no conditions, they loved him,
the sum of all his parts.
Now under six cold feet of ground,
he lies before his time.
And other humans wonder if
the sentence fit the crime.
Another human was his mom,
another was his dad.
Some others still had been his friends
since he was just a lad.
They had laughed and cried with him,
been true through thick and thin.
Now they've thrown handfuls on the box
they buried the man in.
Now the streets are burning-
other humans, filled with rage,
lash out at OTHER humans,
with the city as their stage.
Man and woman, boy and girl,
bear witness what you're seeing-
the aftermath of the wrongful death
of another human being.
Written during the riots in Missouri.
