Art Title by Artist

poem title here

Poet name here

Hands up please don’t shoot.

3 on 1 what can I do

Words hurt, but guns do too.

I’m seeinglight red and blue.

In a few seconds imma be in the ground

.With hella people around.I was walking around.

Now I’m looking up to see my brother frown.

Telling them they got the wrong men.

While I’m waving my hands.

It’s probably because I’m a grown black man.

And they wishing that my life should end.

Looking at all these people thinking that I might die.

Telling them it’s ok no need to cry.

It’s just a life that god planned out