I am writing a thrilling murder-mystery novel, and it’s called More Punishment than Crime. Its villain is a poet. Each time that this villain commits a murder he writes a terrifying poem. 🙂 This is another of the poems from the book.
A ball once bounced across the street.
I watched it from the window.
Its parabolas were nice and neat.
A child followed it and was struck by a car.
Once upon the merry-go-round,
Never again into the canary-dead mine.
As youth we slept amongst graveyard stones;
At Christmas we sang “Auld Lang Syne.”
There were dogs and cats,
Animals of all kinds.
We petted their heads;
We twisted their spines.
At school we put on such a façade
That it fooled all the others
Who never knew we were odd;
And at Christmas we sang bright carols.
Life is not more merry, nor a better ride,
If we show our true colors;
We must keep our real selves inside,
Because we are a monster.