July Fourth

It's the fourth of July moments before the clock struck dusk.
To America, this means night skies filled with exploading bright lights.
But to the hood, it's when our hearts skip beats as parents weap to the sight of there children lining the streets.
It's the one night of the year were every fight is between bullets,
And flesh.
A match my brother thought he could stop with his chest.
He was wrong.
This genocide is wrong.
Murdering children is wrong!
Why can't we right our wrong like I write this song to the sight of my mom as she says goodbye to her newborn son.
She hurts so i get my gun,
Not knowing what lurks under the evening sun.
Now I see the man responsible in my crosshairs.
He looks at me,
And just stares.
A minute passes and I notice he wears,
What I wear.
Baggy pants and a mixed match shirt.
I know even if I pull the trigger he won't hurt like my heart hurts.
So I lower my aim,
And notice I'm standing in front of a mirror.
Instantly,
I know who's to blame.
It's me.
It's you.
It's us.
Because we let the lust of fragmented metal rush past our trust to eraise our memories.
This is why the streets are only filled with enemies.
And if you don't believe me, wait till Independence Day
But be careful.
It could become your Rememberence Day.