The Zebra Hides

What is wrong with us
Yes, with you and me
That we see the truth
But still let things be

What was in our mind
When we let one walk
Were we colour blind
Or too scared to talk

PC does not mean
Truth and justice lie
Skin may set the scene
But no alibi

It cannot be rote
Race must not judge race
So a juror’s vote
Hangs on shades of face

And the system creaks
Swinging in the breeze
As new rotten sneaks
Climb down from the trees

These albino fears
Creep into our gut
Just as closure nears
And the case seems shut

Men are painted black
(It’s a point of view)
And we risk attack
For the things we do

Must all verdicts wait
For the blind to see
Justice lays in state
Slain by fool’s mercy

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