The Perfect Kill: #2 The Crime Scene.

I took out a cigarette, began to smoke,
It helped me to hear, as the crime scene spoke,
Two stained glasses and a bottle of wine,
A broken wall clock stuck at five past nine,
I walked over to the bookshelf, layered with dust,
As I stood there I felt a gust,
The windows all closed, and so was the door,
But then I noticed a paper on the floor,
Quivering gently at my feet,
It sat there, folded neat,
I picked it up and held it near,
“A gift for my dear Jay”,
Incomplete although it seemed,
Within me, excitement teemed,
I opened the folds, ever so slow,
What the letter contained, I wanted to know,
Slowly the writing began to show,
And I felt a stone in my throat,
“This is just the beginning.”, the letter read,
“If you don’t stop me, more will be dead.”,
“Consider it as a game of chess, and I have taken my turn”,
“I will not stop until you die, until I watch you burn”,
Taken aback I was although,
I did my best to not let it show,

“S.M.”.

The Perfect Kill: #1 The beginning.

Every detective has that one case,
That one case, that one elusive face,
Today I narrate, one such endeavour,
Of a culprit, Oh! So clever,
They called her the best, ‘The One That Got Away’,
And yet I remember her, like it were yesterday.

The trees whistled on this cold and windy night,
As I stood at the corner of a street, not a soul in sight,
The street lamp flickered and let out a sound,
And I kept thinking of the body that we had found,
“The body was mangled”, the coroner had said,
“It seems like someone really wanted him dead”,
Murder it was, but was it a crime of passion?
The corpse laid out in a peculiar fashion,
Stabbed in the back and laid on a bed,
A white rose petal placed at the side of his head,
I remained puzzled, the circumstances were queer,
Even in his death he had no fear,
The murder was flawless, not one loose string,
No camera footage, no fingerprints,
Just a cadaver and his face,
One which was complacent with time and space,
The victim was a John Doe, no record, no name,
Yet with his murder he rose to fame,
This is the story of that one case,
That one case, that elusive face.

The little girl

At my table I sat today,
To clear my head, get some things out of the way,
I stared out my window, into the pouring rain,
The evening sky dull, a dimly lit lane,
Across the street stood a girl, crying,
With each teardrop, a part of her, dying,
Her troubles seemed to push her down,
Once an innocent smile, now a frown,
Too young to understand the world,
Too young, just a little girl,
Even though she would cry,
She would still hold her head high,
She seemed to hope for a better day,
The rain soon stopped, and cleared away,
Her sorrow began to disappear,
And to me it was clear,
The troubles you have are yours only,
The reason you're sad or you're lonely,
Will only stay on in your mind,
If you leave your innocence behind.

How do you expect us to make sense,
of this world full of pretense,
where wealth means more than conscience,

All I see in these eyes is this lust,
and distrust,
and disgust,

How can you raise a gun at your own brother,
and leave somewhere a crying mother,
the fault is your own and none other,

All I can do is try,
and defy,
the rules we live by
and hope that I,

Can see this through,
because I just want to do,
what I’m supposed to,
as opposed to,
what you want me to,

Subject to constant brutality,
to the extent of fatality,
when life is just a formality,

Welcome, to the sad reality.

Not over just yet!

I don’t think I’m good enough at anything I do,

I don’t think I’m strong enough, enough to see this through,

When my future is in question, there’s nothing I can say,

But I still have a hope inside to see another day,

When the truth stares at you right in the eyes,

And you are broken and bruised after so many tries,

Your heart feels weak and your throat goes dry,

But there’s still a chance for you to decide,

To get up or stay on the ground,

To start walking or just stay around,

So today’s the day you shed your inhibitions and start all anew,

And today’s the day you realize that there’s a lot left to do.

Walking down an empty street

I walk down an empty street,

Just guided by my feet,

My shirt torn at the shoulder,

My head feels like a boulder,

I won't grow young but just grow older,

I begin to wonder,

Why I still haven't told her,

Looking down my vision gets blurry,

Tears roll down my cheek in a hurry,

Thoughts of you I cannot bury,

Without you I'm incomplete,

I can hardly stand on my feet,

When you're near I feel a bit stronger,

How I wish you could have stayed for a little longer,

Promises I have made and promises I have to keep,

As I walk down this empty street.

Life is a barren desert,

I walk thru the sands of time,

Never know what I am here for,

All I need is a simple sign,

A simple clue, a point in the right direction,

A little help in this test of time,

There is no helping hand to guide me,

Only a single set of footprints left behind,

This is my quest to find the answers,

A simple yes or no will suffice,

The monotony of the desert seeps in,

The soft wind whistling in the night,

I hear a beacon from the forest,

A shout from the green sea,

Have I been in this desert too long?

Will I ever break free?