My DNA was planted at a crime scene
in an apartment that I truthfully have never been.
My fingerprints were found on the murder weapon,
a Bowie knife that was a gift from a long lost friend.
Buried in storage for decades is where that knife had been.
Until now, for me that Bowie knife was long forgotten.
I don't know nor have I ever known the victim
or any of the victim's past or present relations.
I'm now the prime suspect in this investigation
and I don't have a very good alibi to give them.
"Where were you at the time this murder happened?"
the detective asked me during my interrigation.
"I was at home alone," I answered, "as I often am."
The detective then asked me the following question,
"Can your presence at that time be substantiated by anyone?"
"None that I can think of presently," I responded feeling broken.
I was read my Miranda rights and I'm now in the system,
but I swear, I've been framed. I Am Innocent."
The above hasn't really happened to me,
but one day it did occur to me
that due to my lifestyle which I live very solitary,
that I could be a sociopath's perfect patsie,
since very few ever eye witness that I truly may be
at my home all alone with just my cats for company,
and my felines can't attest to my presence unfortunately.