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!