My Ghetto Bedroom

In my ghetto
We had ghetto bedrooms
My younger sister and brother lived with me.
Word around the ghetto was..

“They bribed the guards!”
“They’re sneaking stuff in.”
“Mommy, they think they are better than us.”

It was not true
We just brought things with us
Like the rug that hangs on our wall
Mother gave it to me.  It was her most favorite things.
It was great-great Grandaddy’s.

My five-year old sister had a fake rose
Mom gave her a vase to put it in.
Dad gave her the rose on her fifth birthday. 

He gave me one too, but it’s gone now.
A little boy stole it.  I saw him.
He gave it to his mother after she delivered a little girl. 

We had a window.  One day we were looking out
A guard saw us and ran.
15 minutes later, men charged in.

With a gun, one held us back
As another nailed the windows shut.
I looked at the other rooms in the ghetto.
We do have the nicest.

I am thankful.
I show my pride by wearing my yellow star.

From the author:  “I told a story in my poem to create empathy.”