Men Cry

One of my first "story" poems. Let me know what you think.

The men cry over the newborns death

All the blood running

             down the cradle leg.

The horror of the crime.

So ugly,

It made them sick.

 

When they first arrived

                     the knife was deep

And the blood was fresh.

Some got sick

Some got out.

Then the photographers came,

The lights where too bright.

 

I left and went to interview the mother.

She was a wreck.

There was blood all over her.

As I asked her questions

She became uneasy

Unsure

 

I left and went to interview the father.

He was gone,

I look around

And found him

Dangling from the ceiling

The noose wrapped tight around his neck.