Of snowflakes and serial killers



The beauty of a white world all around,

but I cannot see it beyond my window.

I am entombed by reality,

gestating in the womb of Mother Nature’s swollen belly.

Her raging emotions unsettle me,

her fury becomes my anger.

My sense of peace is replaced by the need to kill.

Thousands of individual victims lay in wait

and my I raise my weapon.

I lose track of how many bodies have been discarded on my property

as my shovel throws more snowflakes to their grave.

13 thoughts on “Of snowflakes and serial killers

  1. You are murdering the unborn snowmen!!!
    It’s always the quiet ones…


    (I’m going to have to try very hard not to steal this, word for word, for the next Beatnik Poetry Slam.)
    (But if you have another, you’re welcome to do a guest post for it if you like.)

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