Twin boys, born to a mother in a ghetto;
A filthy room, the essence of despair.
Their meager meals were often spoiled or tainted;
With rats and roaches, fighting for a share.
No father shared their lives, to ease the anguish;
Their mother, gone long hours at a time
Would oft' return, with strange men, for the pleasure
It took to ease her pain-infested mind.
Twin boys grew up, malnourished and neglected;
No small degree of comfort came their way;
Their tortured lives gave them no cause for hoping
That they would ever see a decent day.
Across the years, their mother's brief appearance
Ceased altogether...totally alone,
The boys, in desperation, tried to find her;
Not knowing which direction she had gone.
When desolation reached its painful zenith,
They focused on their hopeless misery;
Walked from the ghetto, where their world existed
To loose themselves from all its treachery.
Twin boys spent nights in doorways...no improvement
To abject poverty they'd known before;
Became fair-game for street-wise thugs and gangsters
Who worsened, still, the awful scars they wore.
They sold the drugs and ran the numbers daily,
And saw, with envy, well-dressed clientele
For all destructive products they were dealing...
They 'elevated' to a 'neater' hell.
But soon they learned to cheat the ones who paid them;
The ones who'd 'steered' them, in their lives of crime.....
Late on a rainy night paid compensation....
Still mis'rable...twin boys ran out of time.
Twin boys on slabs of marble, void of feeling;
Unclaimed, unwanted...and abandoned...still
Were rudely crammed into the cheapest coffins,
Then placed in unmarked graves in Potter's Field.
Their mother found her way back to the ghetto...
Eventually, she'd found an easy life.
Her 'talents' had impressed a wealthy client,
And, for a while, she'd even been his wife.
But she absconded with the goods he gave her;
Then greedily removed from his account;
Exceeding that, which he'd agreed to furnish...
A handsome sum, an 'undisclosed' amount.
He had 'connections'...and sill had...resources;
In eagerness, set out to ease his loss
Gave orders to his henchmen, "Go and find her!
Exact, from her, far more than she has cost."
One dark and dreary night within the ghetto,
A single, well-placed shot between her eyes;
Just as the twin boys she'd so long abandoned,
Had not a friend on Earth, to hear her cries.
And on that night, she found her slab of marble;
Unclaimed, unwanted...in the arms of Fate,
Soon reached her place, near where her boys lay resting,
But her return to them was far too late.
Twin boys, born to a mother in a ghetto,
Two lonely souls, who'd never had a chance,
Oblivion for them, and for their mother.....
Now, on the graves of all, the demons dance.
What if the twin boys in the weary ghetto
Had grown up poor, but with a well-placed pride
Instilled in them, by sacrificing parents....
From their responsibilities, not hide.
What if they'd learned from those who cared...some caring
With emphasis on values that endure;
Had known stability, and felt assurance;
Been taught to seek out worthy goals, and pure.
What if 'hard work' had been a constant factor,
A tenet well-designed for every age
And "If you want it badly..you'll achieve it!"
Had been emblazoned boldly on each page.
A taste of confidence in 'where you're going;'
Not lashed to where you are, or where you've been;
But looking to a future filled with promise,
With fountains spouting HOPE from deep within.
Now, catch the vision of this better ending!
See opportunities....the way to pave;
So at the end of lives, well-etched with meaning.....
The Angels...do THEIR dance...on empty graves!
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I am SO glad that you went ahead and printed this here!! It shows your true talent!
A very sad tale...yet, like you say the end results can be so different if we just care enough to share.