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Picture 16


I listened to a conversation on the radio with a young man who stood by the side of his brother. His brother was a criminal, a professional who spent most of his youth in jails.

I listened to him explain his love for his brother, and what led him down a road of crime and violence.

And as I listened to him, I shook my head and thought, how far does ones love for family go?

So came this poem.




When I finally realized,

that they,

were going to live their lives,

with violence.

That the door,

to a better life,

remained closed.

That the only life,

they understood,

was a life of crime.

I packed my bag

and said goodbye.

It didn’t matter,

that I loved them.

It didn’t matter,

they were all I had.

It didn’t matter,

that I was one of them,

they were my life.

I ran away,

as far,

as I could go.

I turned around

and took the

Grey Hound

out of town,

rather than live my life,

alone in jail.

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