I’ve got blood soaked hands and I don’t care.
There are bullet riddled bodies lying everywhere.
The blood of the Black man, I know is inferior.
I am still his master and therefore, superior.
When I shoot, I aim to kill and I’ll stand for nothing less.
Now, send in forensics to clean up the mess.
I leave them lying on the street like a dog that’s put down.
They’re not people like me; the Black and the Brown.
“I feared for my life,” that old adage, I use.
It works every time and my badge I never lose.
When their bodies jerk and twitch, I foam at the mouth.
I get a call from the skinheads that are way down south.
They thank me profusely for a job well done.
If the suspect is Black, I’m off to kill another one.
You are fine with what I do because I get away with killing.
From the whites there is no uproar because it’s Black blood that I’m spilling.
Shelby I. Courtland
©2014 Shelby I. Courtland