The knotted end

I had remembered that time,

It certainly didn’t end well.

It started when my friend rung the bell,

He came for a fun play,

Until i saw the small sculpture,

That had lurked in my brain like an ugly vulture,

That gun with the knotted end ,

I saw the real statue in the museum.

I knew it was a statue of death, like what happened to my dad,

And that is why i slammed the door in his face,

But he knew about the death of my father,

Why would he bring that

This was the knotted end of two mysterys!


2 thoughts on “The knotted end”

    1. Yes, i do like poems, i liked how without rhyming it made the poem seem sadder which was my target with the competition.

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