This was a poem I wrote when Washington, D.C. was in the top five as far as the number of murders.

WE ARE ALL EQUAL

A yellow line surrounds the scene

A young black girl's body lies serene

She was shot to death for no reason

Another victim of the killing season

A Congressman's aid lies in the street, blood gushing

The sound of sirens, the police come rushing

A crowd is forming to see who

Another victim, what can we do

A latino man is dead, his shirt torn open

in Spanish or English, no word is spoken

His gang has gone to form a plan

The hatred will kill another man

In life she ran the Korean store

Then shots rang out, death closed the door

No matter whose life there is no sequel

So in life and death we are all equal