LXVII
On the next recording
she clicked,
Moved on
to the next agenda,
A young woman
whom she picked,
Was a young woman
named Emma.
LXVIII
Her skin glitters
as so her face.
She was beautiful
as a rose.
Always poised
and so full of grace.
But once, she fell,
like dominoes.
LXIX
All knew
how many tears she cried.
And they all knew
who's fault it was.
Everyone knew
she begged and tried.
She's just part
of his repertoires.
LXX
For she loved him
before Mary,
Yes,
John James left her broken down.
And the wound he left
was heavy.
She refused
to pass on the crown.
LXXI
And everyone
all felt the hate,
And that from the past,
she still clings.
All knew
she wasn't in good shape,
For the gyp taste of him
still stings.
LXXII
The Paragon
had faced Emma,
Her hurt and hate
whirled in the air,
Still had
her ruined mascara,
One wasted heart
sat on the chair.
YOU ARE READING
The Curtain Call on The Murder of Mary
PoetryWhen one young woman heartlessly drops, who else could assemble together the shattered pieces to unriddle the story of her demise?
