The Nut-Job In Number One

The Nut-Job in Number One

The crazy lady in the first flat;
we called her the nut-job in Number One,
she ripped the complex apart screw by screw,
and one day she murdered someone.
 

She had wild red hair and lived alone,
And no one paid her much attention,
So it was on the patio furniture and yard ornaments
That she took out all her frustration.

 

Her name was Willow, of the wilted sort,
Numbers Two and Three never got much sleep,
Because through those too thin walls,
Late at night you could hear her weep.

 

We all thought she was just a crazy, though
I learned later her daughter had recently died.
But no one had ever even bothered to ask
Exactly why she cried.

 

I guess it really shouldn't have been surprising,
That day she stood with the gun,
And with the crazed look in her eyes,
I half expected the cops to run.

 

She was rooted in the court,
Screaming her obscenities at the world,
I watched the sight in silent awe,
As chaos unfurled.

 

They told her to put the gun down, and
She screamed at them “WHY?”
She fired the trigger into one of their chests,
And the poor man just lay down and die.

 

As an immediate reaction
Seven guns fired at her in despair,
A dozen holes were made in her chest;
She quickly lost all of her air.

 

They carted her off in the Coroner's van
That very same afternoon,
And afterwards the air was tainted;
The birds sang a bit out of tune.

 

The memory of her lives in me,
Because she will never return.
Every night when I go to sleep,
I set her candle out to burn.

 

Author's Note

...I didn't even realize I was on a rhyme scheme until I read this over. Thoughts?

Reviews

[Becca*Type2012]

BEAUTIFUL! I wish I could rhyme like you! oh well. um...back to the poem yeah it was a nice write. it really makes me feel sorry for the chick all she probally needed was a friend. Its a sad poem...and thats waht makes it Jenn, but again nice poem!