The Quiet Ones Poem by John F. McCullagh

My brother-in-law is the tightly wound sort.
Self contained in his miserable way.
Always quick with a quip or a nasty retort,
and, most likely, a miserable lay.

His job unfulfilling, his woman unwilling.
His co-workers thought he was gay.
He labored long hours for his indifferent masters
for infrequent raises in pay.


When he defenestrated his co worker Sally
and police asked me, what could I say?
' It's always the quiet ones
you have to watch out for-
I knew this would happen someday.'