they were no bonnie and clyde
she only wanted a ride
they drove down the grainy road
in a convertible for two.
how little she knew
how his temper often blew
she failed to mention the coming turn
she failed to shut up
so his fire began to burn
and his rage began to churn.
he pulled over on the uneven road
he grabbed her by the hair
and pulled her toward his cold stare
out came the blade
he would use to shave;
he slit her throat
and slits upon her body,
but he wasn’t done.
he stabbed her in such a way
to leave holes for her soul to bray;
when he was done
he counted 21
21 holes and 21 slits,
for the girl he left in the ditch.
he then drove off
thinking he was better off,
he began to hum,
One More for the Road.
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