upchuda

He has a police record? Odiose. He's such a wonderful man, Always helping with the children's birth-days. Why does he hire so many young men? I'm being morose. He's such a responsible man, I'm sure it's to under-cut costs. So many trips to the Bug-house. He can't be one of those. He had a loving wife, He must just be picking up diggers. What's he doing late at night? Loud noises, And those shadows on the kitchen wall, He must be killing mice. What's that awful smell Clawing its way to my nose? Must be a bad sewage line, He did mow my lawn yesterday. Thirty two Jesu, Who could have known? There was no sign, Not a single

Smiling girl, Smiling mother. Picture perfect. Except for the arm. The arm of a monster cropped out of her life The arm of the beast, reaching in ghostly yellow light Reaching to strangle her. "I hate you" Why didn't she understand? Why didn't she see this was for her own good? The boy was too much like the beast. Leading the girl down that sickly yellow corridor. That ended only in death. The beast was strangling her. The boy's blood smeared on the glass Like that blood of long ago Blotting out the grotesque arm. She would understand. She would see the truth. Just like I saw so many years ago. She caught the reflection