There's a puddle pooled upon the ground
next to where he now coldly lays.
In his youth so cruelly was downed,
putting an end to his breath filled days.

Matters not whether t'was blade or gun;
for now his blood, it does cry out
against this wrong blatantly done,
of which injustice must surely shout.

The first to fall by another's hand
was Abel, by his brother Cain,
as his life spilled forth upon the land,
when out of jealousy he was slain.

Didn't matter he was innocent;
for his blood at that time cries out
against this wrong blatantly meant,
of which injustice did surely shout.

With violence ever on the rise,
one more spirit makes to depart
as an additional soul dies;
pierced by society through the heart.

While death strives towards a victory won,
his blood, like those before cries out
against this act wrongfully done;
of which injustice shall surely shout.

Someone else's parents feel the sting,
as their child, too, may be lost;
with only hope on which to cling:
praying death's river will not be crossed.

Matters not how it all came to be;
for now his blood, it does cry out
against the inhumanity
of which injustice must surely shout.