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A Letter From a Mother

A Letter Poem

By Savannah McCainPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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To protect and serve, they tell us

How are we being protected when we are more afraid of you, than we are of the people you tell us are criminals? I tried for my son. The city kept pushing at him, hurting him, to the point he had to start doing drugs. I asked—no, I begged him to stop because I knew it would get him killed… technically it did.

I had to watch my son die… on the internet. Not just once, but repeatedly. I had to see as they debated about my baby’s character. He was good! He just was high. He didn't deserve what the police did to him.

I ask this: who was being protected, when you decided to put sixteen bullet holes in my child’s body?

From His Mother

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About the Creator

Savannah McCain

I'm just a potato trying to become the best vodka I can be. My writing has no purpose. When I write, I write what is on my mind at the time. Some days I can write something funny and sweet, and others I would write something dark.

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