They said I was crazy. Insane.
Something wrong with my brain.
Got tired of my landlord yelling.
They wanted me to write a book.
Revealing how the murder looked.

He said he could not be put down.
As blood spilled he fell with a frown.
A hatchet as my weapon of choice.
Only a few swings and it was over.
An end with him in a garden of clover.

Insanity as my leader giving me order.
Getting ready to move across the border.
Messing with my mind they won't dare.
People might see me now as a serious guy.
My hatchet might show I tell you no big lie.

But for now there I sit looking at a cold soul.
Lifeless with no senses alive to give control.
And what happened tonight was not my doing.
We are told a crazy man is not held at fault.
They said I was crazy. Insane. That's default.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...