The Twins 

My life is like a new pair of shoes.

At first glance they look like they would be really nice to have.

so you pay for them and get the receipt.

You

take them home and

try them on to see how they

look

feel

and see how they fit.

At first you take really good care of them.

You take care not to get them wet, dirty, or scuffed up.

But soon you forget about them and you no longer worry about those same things.
After all they’re yours; you paid for them, right?

So you can wear them or put them away somewhere.

Soon you are kicking things with them and scuffing them up! and why not?!?

You paid the money for them so they’re yours!

Before you know it those shoes are so

beat up,

scuffed up,

torn up,

and in overall horrible shape.

But who cares? ’cause you paid for them and they’re yours.

And at some point they are so abused and broken down that they
can no longer serve their purpose and they are thrown in the trash.
By that time, they are so badly abused, broken and into too many pieces
to even be used for anything so they get buried in a local dump.
Never to be mentioned again.

We were those shoes.

She was buried because of the abuse

and I am the one left in my own personal emotional dump.

My parents are the ones who paid to adopt us,

then abused us,

and now never mentions my sister, the one they abused to death.

And so far they have gotten away

with it all.

Why?

‘Cause they paid for us!

Are we really a pair of shoes that can be abused, mistreated,
and then tossed way with out any justice at all?

Which brings to mind this question:

If this is the world we live in,

why am i fighting to stay alive everyday?