The Many Man
Dead on my doorstep
I jumped as I stepped over him
The black ball of his head I saw
A crater was forced on it
It was my inference that it was forced
Probably by a blunt object
A wrench? A Steel Pipe? A Bob?
It was vague to make a guess
Aha! Now what would this be?
A man’s name on this very person
I know him; we had tea the other day
Quite a jovial man, now he seems to be dead
Why did he die on my very doorstep?
What he did here, I can’t perceive
I snooped around to find something amiss
All I could find was a tired me
My hands were covered in blood
My clothes all stained from it
Dried overnight, tasted the same too
What could this be? A frame? A blame game?
I remember going to sleep last night
I had forgotten to take my pills
But I do remember sleeping
As I can remember nothing
Oh my! What fresh ill is this?
I felt something cold dangling in my coat pocket
Why now? This is my ever faithful gun
What could it be doing here? Out of the bedside locker?
I reminisced, dead man on the doorstep
Blood frozen on my clothes, no drips
My gun’s blunt end seems like it was used for fun
I can make a wild guess as to what I had done