Dedicated to :Judge Donald Zuidmulder
The families were told their son was dead
While we was told they’d never come home
Never again would they sleep on their own bed
Theses are the things that the judge said.
These are the things that we mothers knew
These things our children would never again do.
Different situations
Different cases
Different occasions
But I saw the same faces.
Us Mothers sat in those court rooms
We pulled together the best we could
No words were said
There was no more crying
No more screaming inside,
We were dying.
As the demonic justice system
Went to dinner, to different high pollution clubs
To play golf they threw us all off
A lot was said when they took my son
They took him and locked him up
Because we didn’t have no funds.
But my son isn’t dead,
Yet I am dying
And according to
The unjust law he’d never again lie upon
His bed,
His sentences ranged loud in my head
They didn’t say dead but it sound so near
So clear, that they had stolen
From me someone so dear.
Apart of me died that day
When they took my son away.
For something, that someone else said.
No proof provided for anything they said
Accept he’d a record of long ago
Those white folks did not have to hear no more.
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