M U R D E R, In the 1st Degree
M U R D E R, in the 1st degree
As the clock strikes five on a Monday night
We shuffle down the stairwell, heading home
An odious cry of evil and fright
Taking cover as we enter the zone
The dusk brought rigor all across the land
As the darkening skies prattle with fear
In strident discourse, I misunderstand
The foreboding of the Reaper in jeer
The silhouettes mass in the shadowed trees
But hundreds, still pepper, in purple skies
In the warmth of the city glow they seek
To evade the cold of the countryside
The horrid stench that I feel in my throat
As the sidewalk is splattered with reason
The city will judge, the murder of crows
But, will the hunters, gain a new season
© 2017 Jeffrey Spencer
Copyright © Jeffrey Spencer | Year Posted 2017
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