Murder she wrote, murder it was.
The motive was right but the time was not.
I was sure it could be the husband.
It all fit.
But how did she manage to write on the mirror?
Time, it didn’t fit.
I was outside. I heard it.
Wait, did I say that aloud?
Shit, everyone’s looking.
2 comments:
nice. murder mystery in verse!
Unfortunately, couldn't understand. Maybe that's why it is crime :D
Post a Comment