I only stopped to get some milk,
I should have gone straight home.
I didn’t think to call and say,
I would be running late.
The shooter walked into the store,
And all of time stood still.
I heard the echoes of the shots,
But stood there in a trance.
I was not sure he’d shoot at me,
But felt my time had come.
The bullet never knew my race,
But the cruel shooter did.
I died that day for being Black,
The news would soon report.
I could have lived another day,
But for a hate-filled man.
Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.