Crime Scene

The wind billows through curtains ripped,
satin sheets drip red.
The chairs all scattered across the floor,
the hinges knocked off the door.
The ripped floor-boards tell the tale of destruction,
as the pool spreads steadily along the scrapes, rippling when it seeps through the wood.
The wail of sirens fill the air,
but too late, for the killer is no longer there.
Screams and cries pierce sharp into the night,
as the police discover the crime.
But no tears or swoons deter them from their task,
long ago their hearts had been consumed by sadness,
so they carry out their work, cold, empty and full of ice.

Mother comes in, drowning in sorrow;
then children run towards their sister, wishing, hoping they are dreaming;
father comes in bristling with rage;
then lover enters, eyes wide in shock.

Meanwhile, the murderer lies in wait,
marveling at the ease of escape,
unaware of the havoc left in wake.

10 years later....

Sisters and brothers guarded daily,
always remembering the horrors of that evening.

Father, Mother, rest in peace,
soon to join your beloved child,
just stay in happiness for a while.

Murderer, you are cursed,
with the blood that was spilt and the cries of the living;
so now lie in the filthy ditch, 'till you enter the world below.