Dysfunctional Families, Murder, and Dead People.

Death Row

Dawn,
a metallic smell rampaged
through the quiet hall;
downstairs a cry slaughtered the air,
electric eyes rolled back a form of white.

They rushed the day in pairs,
greeting each frantic plea
with overwhelming force,
as God himself
took the form of a weighty old man
in suit and tie,
and spoke in a yielding voice
to her hair having fallen to the stone.
"It's time."