Hard to Kill

[The following poem is nothing like the usual fare we post here. But long-time readers of our blog know much of my life has revolved around psychology and investigations, so this topic shouldn’t be too surprising.]

 

I never thought it would take so long
It turns out she’s rather hard to kill
But I don’t care how hard to kill she is
Nothing outlasts my mule-headed will

I tried killing her Monday
On Tuesday, I actually tried twice
I picked up a gun for Wednesday’s fun
In fact, I got two at half-price

I thought it would be done by noon
Then I figured it would be over by dusk
Two more failures, how does she do it?
Does she get a whiff of my musk?

I tried to push her off a cliff
Onto the wave-battered rocks below
Everything’s fine, then thoughts out of line
Was the push ill-timed? I’ll never know.

When she slept I tried to cut her
With a knife across the throat
But she opened her eyes at the just the right time
One more failure that I must note

But I’ll keep trying, I’ll never quit
Not till the day I do her in
In fact, I know what I’m going to try next
A Reaper’s Micky in her tonic and gin

There’s only room for one reality
So, she will always be my rival
It’s not a question of morality
Cuz’ she’s my split-personality
It’s strictly a case of survival