One British teenager, waiting for a bus.
Ordinary night; just one of us.
Stood with his friend in a cold, dark street,
six prowling strangers converged to meet.
Hostile, vicious taunts surround,
seconds later, on the ground.
Metal, glinting in the shade;
a cold and mean foreboding blade.
Sharply wounding front and back,
brutal stabbing. Gang attack.
Out of breath and losing blood,
bravely ran through neighbourhood.
Assailants gone, they took their chance;
'til help arrived by ambulance.
Letting out his final breath,
Stephen Lawrence bled to death.
Witnesses too scared to speak,
misjudged loyalty, or just weak?
Met police: corrupt, inept;
all the while, the parents wept.
Prosecution, trials, appeals,
whistleblowing, dodgy deals.
Campaigns, protests, angry voices,
heard at last, justice rejoices.
There is no place for racial hate,
this is the time to educate.
Despite the lies and evidence lack,
grey areas now made white and black.
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