The Color of My Skin

You murdered me because of the color of my skin.
Not because of my culture.
Not because of my religion.
Not over territory rights
or rights to water.
You murdered me
over something
I could not control.
The color of my skin.

You murdered me because you were taught to despise.
Taught to despise anyone who did not
look like you,
sound like you,
dress like you,
or worship like you.

You screamed your white privilege
when you cocked that gun.
Your white privilege is not because you’re rich.
Your white privilege is not because you’re poor.
Your white privilege is
because you are…
White.
Nothing less.
Nothing more.

You sent me to an early grave
like it was another day
for you.
No remorse.
No guilt.
No forethought.
Just a loaded gun
and a heart full of hate.
I did not threaten you.
The only thing that made you uncomfortable
was the color of my skin.

You murdered me
and still
walk
free.
While
my family,
my friends
will never walk with me
again.

But
now
the world knows
you murdered me.

© KaZ Akers