Constance Craddock Poem by Phil Soar

Constance Craddock



Her name was Constance Craddock
and she looked like she was dead
she had a hole between her thighs
and two more in her head
the CSI and FBI were present
the circumstances just a little weird
her fluid looked like it was effervescent
and her middle hole seemed to have grown a beard
They tried to piece together how she got there
she was a very long way from her home
her panties were no longer round her bottom
and she looked like she had recently been boned
the result of the forensics was revealing
she'd been the object of a serial killer
the footprints on the ground showed he was kneeling
and had entered from behind when he was drilling
they caught the suspect in the local whorehouse
deep in thought and drugged up to the core
they stuck him on death row and when they'd finished
he won't cause any trouble anymore

Friday, April 17, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
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