The Day He Died
He was a quiet sort of guy,
Expert at finding friendly sheltering shadows.
Women were mysterious creatures of light:
He was nervous of the one he lived with.
So, he stuck to his comfortable darkness,
Letting her go about however she pleased.
He snuggled up in the nice corner he had found,
And slept in very late that day.
That morning
her Ego had to pry
her Id from bed
with a crowbar
Breakfast was
simplistic
lacking omens
of homicide
That day he was murdered
She came into his serene little world
Flipped him out of his corner
He fled for his life
There was a scream…
Then came the descent of her murderous intent
The helpless fluttering of eight slender legs…
Extinguished life slipped away.
 Paras_Serenity · Wed Mar 04, 2009 @ 06:46pm · 0 Comments |
