Ways from home

Hands tightening, my neck is broken From the front to the back his batons a choken Fear in my body for my posture is a slopen Cheer in the voices from the violence of hate Screaming death to us all, it must be our fate Hollering for mama to open the gate. See you later they said, just you wait. Get on home boys, he said and don’t be late. No where to run, I guess they were having fun, I got you now boy, they said it was a gun. Sincerely, from the grave, your loving little son