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.
Apologies if I've previously shared this here. Written in 2015 following the bedlam in Ferguson, MO.