this made my heart cry today:
Why are we fighting to live if we're living to die?
Why are we fighting for love if it only makes us cry?
Why are we fighting for gangs when all our colors are the same?
Why are we dying with no one to blame?
Why are we killing for all the wrong reasons?
Why are we dying every day, every month, every season?
Why are we worried that Daddy isn't coming home?
Why are so many children left in this world alone?
Why can't we go outside and play?
Why is Mommy worried that one of us may get hit with a stray?
What is the reason Daddy isn't coming home today?
Why do we have to sleep on the floor at night?
Why do we hurt and fight?
Can we all stand together and make all wrong right?
Why do people bring babies in the world like this?
Why did that bullet have to hit Starkesia?
Why didn't it miss?
Why does money make the world go around?
Why when we die we get put in the ground?
Why does it seem as our life changes in so many ways?
Why does it feel as we are living in our last days?
Why does this gang get into it with that gang?
When everyone lives in the same community and has the same things?
Why doesn't death scare me anymore?
Because death is a game and has reached its final score.
Why is it that when a person dies a baby is born?
Or is it that the person comes back reformed.
Why is it that we are focused on the good and never expect the bad?
Why after we laugh, we cry?
Why are we fighting to live if we're living to die?
written by shontanette brinson, 8th grade, in memory of siretha white, 10, and starkesia marie reed, 14, killed by stray bullets earlier this month inside their own homes in southside's englewood, chicago, il. how do we just let this happen? it would not be allowed to happen where i grew up, were these beautiful girls' lives less valuable? why do we not make something happen?
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