There’s surely nothing sillier,
Than the tale of the escaped killer,
who goes on the prowl
in a trench coat and cowl
And a hook of the purest silver.
And when this psycho’s attacking
He slices in a precise pattern:
There’s no sloppy stabs
Or haphazard jabs,
As he balks at the thought of just hacking.
This madman is far from mundane,
So don’t dismiss this myth with disdain,
That’d be uncouth
And there’s always some truth
In a legend that is urbane.
(Inspired by #TLPoetry prompt ‘Myth/Legend’)