Gladys was a devote Baptist and a
Sweet old lady who never had anything
Bad to say about anybody so when this
Young man moved into the neighborhood
They said you can just look into his eyes
And see he's nothing but bad news but
Gladys said now didn't our Lord say he
Who is without sin cast the first stone?
Little did she know she had just dug her
Own grave for it wasn't a year to the day
On a dark and starless night close to
Summer’s end he snuck into her house
And up behind her while reading the good
Book and with one forceful stroke slit
Her throat, she fell face down on the kitchen
Table and one cheek resting over the
Words of the Lord...
That was fifty years ago and nobody would
Of known it was him if it hadn't of been for
The funny cowboy boots he wore that
Left their imprints on the bloody kitchen
Floor...
Well that was fifty years ago but last night
He escaped from his padded cell and now
A demon is on the loose again, like a bat outta
Hell, in a small, small American town...
A REAL JACK THE RIPPER that can't be found
A REAL JACK THE RIPPER leaving dead bodies
All around, in a small, small American town...
A REAL JACK THE RIPPER that cannot be found!
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Author:
moontigerntn (
Offline) - Published: June 22nd, 2016 13:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments2
LOL & Love your "Real Jack the Ripper in a Small American Town".
Thanks 🌜🐯
thx for reading my poem.
good story full of imagination, which is just what a good story needs.
enjoyable read.
thx for reading my poem.
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