Catherine Collins Poet I do not know?

Noise = Death

The morose man
Complained of the incessant noise
Coming from his neighbor's ceiling fan
Saying he wished they would stop playing with their toys
He took a martial tone
He'd become quite indignant
Saying he'd like to take it outside
While obstinately insisting that they abide
On went this pathetic man's rant
And then it began, the nonstop ringing of the telephone
He'd encroached into their apartment
Demanding that they immediately pay their rent
Yelling at them, about how he deplored squatters
Alongside with the raging of rapid waters
His words were so obscure
That the began to wonder if they still had a future
And also of why he loathed them so very much
Intensity had evolved into terror
He couldn't keep a linear stance, for that reason he walked with a crutch
With every passing second, this emaciated man wobbled nearer
He drew closer to them, the last thing either of them remembered was the malicious look 
upon his face
They passed out; the police delved into the incident
Found that the man had a hear attack, and that his name was Ace
This is what happened, or at least how the police report went

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