Tears And Old Bitterness Of Fortune

It was seventeen years ago,

and yet still it crosses my mind -

the night I should have gone to Jail and didn't -

the night someone else took my prison sentence.

Do not have me wrong.

I would never want to go to prison.

That is what makes it hurt all the more.

Before I dive farther into my reflection,

I must say that it was not my fault.

... or maybe it was.

Before I could admit my blame,

my brother had taken it,

and it is so often that people get away with crime,

that as soon as someone admits to a crime,

the authorities do not waste anytime,

charging that person,

whether they are innocent or not.

With that being said,

I will continue with my sad fortunate yet unfortunate story.

Sigh -

I was sixteen.

My brother was eighteen.

At the time, my brother was heavy into doing bad,

and I, being his little brother,

wanted to follow in his footsteps.

I wanted to be just like him.

One night, it was about three-0-clock in the morning,

when I was in the passenger seat,

while my brother was driving his car.

I was having the time of my life.

In a few hours, my brother and I had made so many sales,

and made hundreds of dollars in a matter of hours.

My brother whom I looked up to was teaching me,

about selling drugs.

That night was going so smoothly.

Then it was around was around three-0-clock in the morning,

when my brother stopped in front of this one house.

He made a sale to what we thought,

was a regular, 'drug-head'.

It turned out that that, 'drug-head',

was actually an informant.

Everything seemed fine,

and then it was less then a minute,

as we were about to pull out of the neighborhood,

and onto the main road,

when out of nowhere came a police car and cut us off.

Then out of nowhere came about ten unmarked cars,

with flashing blue and red lights.

Then out of nowhere came undercover officers,

with their guns drawn at our windows.

They dragged us out of the car,

put us in handcuffs,

seperated us,

laid us down,

and questioned us.

- standard procedure -

I am not being specific,

to give anybody a bad name.

Do not be mistaken.

There is only myself to blame.

After asking me questions,

I gave them mostly lies.

My brother must have known that I would not talk.

He took all of the blame.

He had the money on him.

He had the drugs on him.

He was driving,

and he made the sale to the informant.

I did not see them put him in the back of their car.

What I do remember, was an officer pulling me off the ground,

taking the handcuffs off,

and just telling me in a mean and stern voice,

"Go - Get the fuck out of here".

Then, in less than ten seconds,

all the squad cars disappeared.

After the situation had passed,

I ran to my friends house,

and tried to be as unseen as possible.

It was because of that night,

that my brother spent eighteen months in prison,

while I was able to still live my life.

Only my brother and I know about what happened that night.

Moments of the story today seem a bit fuzzy.

I thank the Lord for that.

Still, to this day,

although I do not talk about it,

it is not something that I can let go.

I was fortunate that I had never been to prison.

I will admit that.

Still, for a very long time,

I remained bitter towards myself.

This situation happens many times,

for people who live that life.

Although, I can imagine how they have to deal with that pain -

the pain of someone taking their punishment -

a horrible punishment.

-

... but such is that life.