Roderick Molasar Poet Quatrain

Revenge Is Beautiful

I'd been living for years with dysfunctional peeps
It was when, and not if, I would murder the creeps
They completely deserved it, you'd better believe
And their deaths were not hardly an item to grieve.

I decided to kill them in different ways
And I proved to myself, see, that crime really pays
I was never found out, as the years rolled on by
It was luck, and rehearsing a heartbreaking cry.

I took special delight in the irony there
That so many were fooled by emotions laid bare
It became habit-forming, and made me so proud
Turning cretins to corpses, then mourning out loud.

The dumb cops were so clueless that I felt their shame
They admitted they hadn't a culprit to blame.
But this isn't a novel in which a gumshoe
Puts the pieces together in fingering you.

So I'll bid you Adieu, Adios, and all that
And return to my Soaps as I slowly grow fat
On the funds which I pilfered by changing their wills
(Yes, I sleep well at night, I just take a few pills.)

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