Separations give us time
To appreciate those we love.
We get shocked, angry, sad,
For you will be there
Holding someone’s hand
That you never expected
Would ever show up.
The lost son returns.
The father is ecstatic.
Happy in his redemption,
The father wildly prepares
No amount is too much.
The son gets what he came for,
Then kills his mother,
And his sister and whomever
Sees the trail of blood.
He wants to cover his tracks
But the scene is too crazy.
The best is to leave,
Without any more tracks.
He tries to escape, without an alibi
That he can remember.
If I have to state my alibi,
It will be the same.
I have no idea when or where I was
At hardly anytime, as each day runs
Together. It is a very long blur.
