The Detective

Dear Mr. Detective, what clues have you?
The answer is tappin at the tip of your tongue
A decade of cruel crimes unsolved
Of murdered women missing hearts
Decorate the streets like Christmas time
The Detective he quivers in sheer disbelief
The string of crimes his eyes have magnified
Are dog-eared, deciphered and fathomed
Yet answers remain in the dark somehow
Like a puzzle piece that's draws no art
And any half wit fool could firmly conclude
That the bloody gloved Botanist down the street
Is the cold callous killer
He triumphs each march his shoes clack
Towards the plaster peeling run down lab
A sound too high to hear
Like a first grade sniper
It pierced through his skull
Fell down and faint to black
A shake of the skull
A jolt in the brain
A twist in the bone
And a cut off from air
Four by four bricked wall
No doors no windows
A choir of cluttered phones
Tangled chords devour the space
Phone wails as if its new born
Each a ring a crash of metal
Unwavering and unending
Voices echo asking for grace
For a crumb of divine intervention
What is a poor Detective to do?
Placed in this unsurmisable state
What an unfortunate fate
How long has it been?
The ringing is died down.
Dizzy and dazed
In a strange room
His eyes spiral out
Into a dark fuzzy haze
Dear Mr. Detective, what clues have you?
It hardly matters now, with the state they are in
There are shards of what once was a planet
Corpses floating out to outer space
A glorious tessellation of the human race
The Detective he quivers in sheer disbelief
The end of the world has come
Before he solved the murder mystery
It hardly matters now,[
Such a shame,
They're all dead
The world is no more,
No more,
No more