Miss Jackson Poem by Elliot StClare

Dolled up, ready to go out.
Out the back door, her parents don't know she's about.
To the sleazy motel, off highway eight.
He's there waiting for her, with his promise of their big date.
As time moves on, things go south.
Her big date takes a turn, it's not the one she's been dreaming about.
In a rage of fury, he is blinded by anger.
Their sweet date turns into one of danger.
The anger fades, and he's seen what he's done.
The little horror shop he has spun.
White sheets, turn red.
Her face runs threw his head.
There not enough water in the world to wash his hand of the deed.
Oh how he could still her her pleads.
A shove and a trunk, the smell of gas and a dark dirt road.
Cover up the evidence, don't want to get exposed.
Miss Jackson, your attraction, your passions, your actions.
No one will ever find you now, but that's okay, I love you anyway.....Miss Jackson.