There was a city
Or a town
That was bustling with trade.
It was one of those places
Where you would want to
Spend your fate.
Then the people from the seas
Came and commited a crime.
It was a high land lass
That became a victim, alright.
"Well, she was found in a river,
Could be a suicide."
"But she was cut into pieces."
"Oh, my. Oh, my!"
The people didn't take
The case in their hands
And the cops decided to
Investigate the crime.
But the folks kept dying
Dying the same death.
Rufflin' the feathers of the cops
Who were onto the case,
As the killer was a gun
Who had made it to the tops
A gun that pulled off
The trigger in the head
In the head, then they fell
Down the river's bed
Aided by the waters that's
Coming from a hell.
The town died down
Or was it a little city?
As the cops kept failing to
Catch the cunning kitty.
And the cat kept killin'
Killing for the pride
The honour of a killer
That was not a better filler
Than the thriller of a killer.
But when the town died down
So did the killer.
No one ever found
The body of that hound,
Nor of the people
Whom they had hunted down.
YOU ARE READING
A Small Collection Of Poems
PoetryA majority of these are very random, read at your own risk. I'm not a big poet but if you do dare to read these, I recommend you to not read the older ones that I've meticulously placed at the end. They are horrible but the brain that I stole from s...
