The Murder Of Mrs Jones

Not guilty, he pleads now
Now he can plead
Not then, he ignored her pleas
Deaf to her appeals
A man possessed
Devoured by vice
Caught in the grip of insanity
Eaten by the worms of hatred
Consumed by something vile
Mouth dripping with slime
A rabid dog...
Deaf to the cries of anguish
Possessed by a mind incapable of
Comprehending the value of mercy
A tortured soul…
Cain consumed by rage
Seeking the blood of his brother
I look at him in the dock
What is sadder than the face
Of a murderous man
Seized by the tremour
Of a murderous rage…
His body wracked by the urgency
Of a hellish ambition?
What is sadder than
The voice that trembles,
The lips that twist,
The knees that buckle,
The eyes that bleed,
The hands that shake
Those hands that strike
Again and again...
Dripping with blood.
What is sadder than
The sight of a man
Possessed by the need
To harm a woman?
Not guilty, he pleads now,
Now he can plead.
Not then, he ignored her pleas
Deaf to her appeals…
And so I call the only witness-
Little Miss Jones, crying,
Hiding in the closet, confused,
Watching her beloved father
Murder her beloved mother.

© Tyrone Terrence 2008

Inspired by true events-
Courtesy of the Crime & Investigation Network