A REAL WHO DONE IT
The detectives were completely stumped
Who was the perp and why the kill
Every lead had been thoroughly pumped
And yet no clear suspect still
There was no body but still a crime no less
The poor fellow bludgeoned until dead
And where to start was only a guess
So no Miranda Rights were read
No murder weapon could be found
And a lack of evidence stalled the case
Oh but the fatal tool was around
Veiled by the smirk on her lovely face
Repeated lashes finally led to his demise
With an instrument hidden in plain sight
But in such a clever disguise
Would any detective ever get it right
Who killed his soul, why and with what
Ah, it’s a mystery to stump the mind
Although there is a feeling in the gut,
No bars will ever find her sitting behind
- Author: MDStone ( Offline)
- Published: December 1st, 2021 08:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Comments2
But i bet she'll be propping up a bar or two.
Reminds me of the Dylan song about the boxer. Hurricane
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.