Stop The Hate

I am the mother
Who sits here with her baby in her arms
Cold and lifeless.
A final expression of weariness
On his perfect little face.
Just twelve years old
A joy
An athlete
A singer
A caring person
So sweet
So happy
Murdered
Over the one detail
That didn't matter.
The one detail
That you decided
He should die for.
When will we learn
To stop the hate?