A Murderer in plain sight
Cannot be detected
Because they look like
Everyone .
Anyone .
But—they have killed
Someone .

Evidence is missed:
Flecks of dried blood
Under the fingernails,
A foreign hair woven
Into their own,
Their boarded–up existence
All glazed over .
Minutia .

The spin of the world,
The everyday
Ignores the clues ;
The murderer goes free .
Fits in .
Smiles .

Neighbors sleep well
Surrounded, content
In normalcy
Until a grisly discovery
Shatters the façade .

A shadow falls across
The town from the headlines,
Bold and dark .