This is my second DH poem, I hope you like it. (See first part for disclaimer)
Mary Alice Young
took the knife
and out of fear
you used it,
and murdered.
With wide eyes you stare,
gasping at the sight,
the bloody sight,
shaking on the floor.
Mary Alice, what have you done?
And down the stairs
comes your son,
curious and scared,
not knowing the truth.
You fill him with lies,
just to keep him safe.
You think he'll be fine.
But he won't stay safe forever...
Mary Alice, what have you done?
And what if they saw you?
What if they knew?
What would you say?
What would you do?
What of the blackmail,
the hate and the lies?
After a while, and after the strain,
after you're tired, why suicide?
Mary Alice, look what you've done...