Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

1
The Body not Co-ld.
In Ha-nd, On-e Ro-se.
Outline’s Red, both Vase
And Head,
The way Scene  po-se.
This brings back Mem-ry,
Past Rose CaseVase, Dead Bo-dy.
Unless the Rose Turns 
Money Fold,
It’s the Va-se guilt-y.


2 
Who but Hell Do We chase?
On-ly Sus-pect in place.
Part of this Pic-ture
Paint like this Vic-tim,
Her Smack on His Face.
But This re-minds e-ven Me,
Another Dead Wanna-be,
Who chose the Rose that did 
Not un-fold and well-once was
The Vase and Me.


3
Hi-s Bo-dy now Co-ld.
In Ha-nd A Ros-es!
Outlines the Head of
The Vase Plum Rum 
Red as the Mur-der Scene frozed. 
No Suspect To chase You see
In the Game of what 
Did You bring Me?
Unless Your Rose Made from Money-fold, My Guess,


…The Vase-guilty!