Untitled- I don't' know what to call this.

Got another poem for ya :)  No clue what to entitle this one but I'm sure I'll think of something.

I made the conscious decision to speak for those who don't have loud voices
Stuck in destruction, looking for a way out but not given many choices
And the only sound of rejoicing? Is when people pray for the promises of better days
Processionals that blast through the windows of churches
Shortly followed by parades full of hearses
And the worst is, people don't go there on a day to day
We only frequent sanctuaries when there's a body there to lay.
The only time you'll see a gangster get on his knees and pray
The often time you'll see a mother wish it never happened this way
Sad realities that happen so often, horrible worlds to get lost in, budgeting to buy coffins
In neighbourhoods where young black boys pack gats and pull triggers
Hold bodies still they stiffen from rigour, who would have figured?
This isn't they life that they pictured.
The devil has a tight grip on his cup that runneth over with lost souls
Using poverty and violence and lassos pulling people into his black hole cause he knows
Society won't care to save souls trapped in his ghettos.
Brighter days almost seem forbidden, walking through neighbourhoods that look poverty stricken
While on the upper east side, people indulge in luxurious living
It's the arrogant stamp of capitalism.
As devils roam bay street in Armani black suits
Evil is knowing the right thing but it's still wrong that you choose
Gaining a profit at the expense of others, while still knowing this truth
And have the nerve to turn around and say that it's drugs killing the youth?
Look at the obvious proof, it's the bad that they do
That make young boys think their only option is shoot.
Forced decisions that ruin their living
While the real villains are chilling in black robes
The same villains that smack gavels and smash homes
Before the trial the verdict was already known
Let the black boy reap the consequences of what corrupt elites have sown
I speak for those, who don't have the loud voices
Robbed from their choices, so I hope that my voice is heard
Activism lies not only between my pen and my paper, but spreading the word
It lies between civil disobedience and visions of peace
The step in the right direction only takes the bravery of the first one to speak
Cause I'm tired of seeing lives wasted for no reason
As bad things happen at the hand of others and even ourselves
The chills of hearing Trayvon Martin screaming for help
The anger of watching Troy Davis fall victim to the judicial system
Feeling like the dreams got shot down with him,
But I still gotta thank Mr. King for living
And I thank Malcolm X for never holding back a breath
Cause now my hunger for change is absolutely relentless
So I stand here today by choice with my notebook and my voice
Ready to fight, to pull souls out of black holes and into the light.