The meat cleaver left bent and bloody
on the floor next to her body; a psycho on the loose
without his medication and his mommy; kills his doctor.
Police theorize the mad killer knew his victims
and having planned to harm them, robbed them instead
to make it look like a lesser crime gone bad.
All of evidence suggests he is crazy; but we never know
until something like this happens to make us count the pieces…
No pun intended.
We are never as complete as when we fall apart.
2008 © T Sheridan
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-a-song-by-the-dave-clark-five-bits-and-pieces/
