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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "SOME FOOLS HAVE ALL THE LUCK" a year ago, I met a lost but willing to live adolescent. problems in school, problems with siblings, problems with her mother and a never-ending self-analysis through the day to day verbal and physical abuse at the mouth and hands of her children’s father. the opportunities to end it all have been passed up like yesterday’s whores. I’ve talked with her, reasoned with her, given her every bit of comparison and analogy to convince her that she must end this destructive life- style or she will be killed. a pattern to excuse it, her choice to live inside her perverted view of love has continued to take a toll on her self-worth and physical shape. I remember a time and more times after that where I was accused of such things and the pigs were called. into jail I went and it’s gotten crazier ever since. I’ve come to love this girl as if she was my own, telling her I’d go nowhere even if her mother and I stopped what we’ve been fighting over for a year. however unlikely keeping me around will be, the offer has been planted. the other night her mother and I went back to her house and saw two out of shape fingers, a black eye, hair out of place, broken furniture, make-up urinated on and a wound dripping with blood. she had gotten her reality of love once again. it was her chance to end it all. “when the police come are you going to talk to them?” I asked. “no,” she said. her mother and I tried to convince her of the opportunity but it proved worthless. I walked downstairs, ready to go. what point was there? she’d stay and set herself up to do it all over again and again. I think back to my days, the days of accusation without proof only to end up doing time. now at 33, I sit separated from my children while my ex-whores laugh. there her boy sits free, laughing while she hates herself. this is the America we live in. America, land of the free but I have to question the home of the brave. By: Chicano Eddie 09212017
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