A murderer in plain sight
cannot be detected
because they look like
everyone.
Anyone.
But—they have killed
someone.
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.
*[ WSB ].