Home Alone Poem by Ima Ryma

There was just Mom and Dad and I
Living together in the house.
The folks would fight, the reason why,
Each of them was a drunken souse.
When I was sixteen one dark night
I arrived home and my folks were
Having a real bad drunken fight.
Mom stabbed him twice, then Dad shot her.
But no more drunken fights there be.
Otherwise life went on the same.
The years did come and go for me.
When I was thirty, some cops came.

Lots of questions the police had
When they dug up both Mom and Dad.