They huddled in the abandoned house that night

United against the cold; two fifteen, one twelve.

Met at a subway station, lunch time at the trash bin.

Reminisced about dad, two six packs a night and the back of his hand.

Teachers never noticed the bruises on their cheeks, those lifeless eyes.

Just marked them down for unsocial behavior.

Abandoned house is gone now, so are they.

No one knows what set the blaze.

They were shackled by their innocence

Forever children now, they played at grownup games.

We made it our business. directing their lives,

Tied them into knots, tried to make them fit.

We instilled them with a yearning

A hunger that would never be satisfied.

We tried to chip away the mold that held them

But only the fires of hell could melt away their chains.

Ironic remembrance; all that made them wrong

Is now the circumstance that makes them right.

We shed a mournful tear, final goodbyes.

Call upon God to ease our guilt

And forget that we didn't want them here in the first place.