Guns don’t feel. With no rhyme or reasons or intent Guns– Kill. Habitually. Without asking names or stories. Guns Hate. Regardless of color, age, nationality or background.   Guns sin. Blindly. With eyes closed. Guns Shoot into the darkness, Bullet holes filled with dreams of those hit while sleep walking Guns slice lives into pie … Continue reading Original Poetry: Why More Guns Will Result in More Black Youth Dying