Am I Next?

Everyday, another body in the street, out cold, drowned in blood, left there for hours, days, weeks, months, probably years, afraid to walk out my house, afraid that the man that is suppose to protect me, is gonna shoot me.... afraid that he's gonna leave me in the street for hours, not even notifying my mother that I'm the one laying in the street, in cold blood... lifeless..., they say that I was a threat to them, that I came at them wrong, when I was simply walking to the bus stop to get to school on time, unarmed and innocent... and I was a threat to them... I didn't even notice your presence, I didn't notice your white skin on that gun, getting ready to end my life... and I know I won't be the last... you take the lives of many black people, man or woman, boy or girl, you treat us like dogs... and you still walk free... while we are buried, while our families mourn us, while we rot in our graves... you walk free

This poem is about: 
My country
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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