There were once two men from the very same town and neighborhood.
One was from the nice end, with a big house and a beautiful Escalade.
The other was from the dirty end, with a decrepit house and old worn ford.
Both were family men, with a wife and kids; both loved them very much.
The first worked in the bank on the square, taking only the best clients.
The second had trouble finding a job because of his background.
The first went to the golf course every Sunday to work on his swing.
The second went to the hospital every night to visit his sick daughter.
Richie spent most of his free evenings at the gentlemen's club with his pals.
After every dance, he would call his female friends and invite them for some Champaign.
He had a secret life under his suit and tie that not even his closest friend knew of.
He was fluent in the languages of rape, gambling, drugs, and murder.
John spent his free evenings with a group of acquaintances scouting potential hits.
After a good steak out, he would break in and take what was worth the most.
His life wasn’t so secret, every good officer knew his name and his face.
He would steal and plunder; all for his sick daughter. All for her.
A flawless name, painted in gold; and tainted name, done in bronze.
Richie was a god to the people; John was the plague that people scoffed at.
They met one day, at the bank; it was Richie's big day, and John's biggest hit.
These two men met at last, one good one evil. They met at the sound of fire.
They departed as the fire engulfed them; a stray bullet, and some loose gas.
There was a funeral for them, both on the same exact day in the same cemetery.
Hundreds of people came to pay their respects to Richie, flowers and black tears.
His family came to visit John at his grave; a cheap stone and no flowers, but pure tears.
The inscription on Mr. Richie was beautiful and inspirational; such a good man.
There wasn’t an inscription on John's, it was far too much money; nothing for evil.
No one knew of the secret life of Richie, or of the dying daughter of John.
They say that heaven awaited Mr. Richie and John went straight to hell; So naive.
"The evil that men do lives after them", a famous quote from Julius Caesar,
"the good is oft interred with their bones". How true for poor John.
Richie on the other hand will be remembered as a good man, a genuine man.
No one will ever know of his rapes, drug addictions, or his murders.
