The art, adventures, wit (or lack thereof), verse, ramblings, lyrics, stories, rants & raves of Christopher R. Bakunas
Friday, June 7, 2013
The House Of The Broken
The first time she showed up for work with a bruise
She explained that she had tripped and fell
While walking her dog
A few weeks later she called in sick
Came in after a few days
With make-up caked on her face
That did a poor job of hiding a black eye
We all knew her husband
Knew he was short-tempered
Knew he was prone to violence
Knew he had to have absolute control
All of us wondered
Should we assume
The worst?
Should we call
The Police?
One of the women
Pulled her aside
And was told to
Go to hell and to
Mind her own business
We all started thinking
That a day would come
When a call would come
Asking when we had last seen her alive
She always seemed frail
Weak
Totally defenseless
Afraid
A perfect victim
When the day finally came
That the two policemen walked in
None of us were really surprised
When they put the handcuffs on
And arrested her for the murder
She plead to manslaughter, got a couple of years
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