Homicides


Locked in a room of doom and gloom,
my parents sleep from dawn 'til noon.
My only toy is a broken train.
The bathroom tub's my urine drain.
We always know when they go out,
cause they holler-use the window route.
In case of fire or other threats,
that 2x4 is escape from death.
I'm seven now, my brother's five.
Our baby sister seems half alive.
She lays there sleeping all the time.
Our parents' words aren't worth a dime.
Then that night of terror came.
When fire came in waves of flame.
We all cried out but no one's there.
The window route became a dare.
I grabbed the baby, brother jumped.
Our lifeless bodies filled the dump.
We laid there resting, the three of us.
No sound was made, no major fuss.
Our bodies laid to rest that week.
Our parents grieved, forgiveness seeked.
But, then, when all was done and said,
they stuck their arms and both played dead.

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