Ice Sculputures On Mlk Blvd Poem by dy.sin the writer

POW!
(That's somebody's son)

POW!
(That's somebody's son)

Gun smoke dissipates in the air
Blood puddles transforming to ice

Crowds gather at the injustice there
As an innocent soul drifts from pavement to paradise

The one who froze the boy has not a care
Even with a hundred fingers pointing his way

He dares to blame the dead for dying there
Claiming if he were not guilty, why didn't he stay

Why run?
(Never-mind his loaded gun)

Why run?
(Never-mind his loaded gun)