An Old Story Retold Unto Death

I'm younger than I look but big a food desert will get you large but not in a good way. I'm fair for a black boy but the hoody hides my race into just a blur of ethnicity. I could be a kid or a malignant killer. I am 11 years older than nothing at all. I took the bus to school, got myself into a fight. Now I am on this street playing with a gun - it shoots water. When the cruiser pulled up next to me the muzzle was pointing waving its way. A cop was shouting he seemed scared. I was just staring. Now I’m dying a bullet in my chest burning another hole through Chicago.