The Poetic Murderer by Daniel Thomason To rip a poet’s right is quite insane, For pens refuse to ache in censorship. They’ll weep and tear away their racing veins, To spill dramatic words, a manuscript. A story writ about a homicide, Where death’s confession stains the killer’s pin. The proof it lies betwixt a finger scythe, The poet’s blade that hacks its lover’s skin. The mind detectives try to solve the case, But evidence is lost in foggy strolls, Where mind detectives walk along the face Of deathly grates of parchment: case is closed. The poet kills his love in hopes of change, And gets away with homicide and gain.
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