As the murderer knelt
before the pile of remains,
blood soaked through his jeans
and it ran through his veins.

Still, the clatter of steel
on the linoleum tile
left the kitchen in pain
and the house in denial.

As the scream’s echo fades,
a new sound breaks the peace.
A new life emerged
to the world to decease.

Behind the doors, glass and french,
lay a garden, freshly scarred,
and a murder of crows
watching lives, freshly marred.

How they gossiped and glared
at our murderer, who,
taking pride in his rage,
killed his young child, too.

While the struggle was glib,
still the pain wasn’t short.
In the birdbath she drowned,
with the murder’s support.

As he turned to the crows,
laughing wildly with him,
he then severed his life
with a smile so grim.

And the murder of crows
now stood silent and still
and they fell to the ground
with their purpose fulfilled.