And in 1979, after B.T.K. apparently broke into a widow's home and waited - without success - for her to come home, he sent a poem to the woman who never arrived: "Oh, Anna Why Didn't You Appear." In part, the poem read: "Alone again I trod in pass memory of mirrors, and ponder why fornumber eight was not." --The New York Times
I mean, that's just bad. Pretentious, obscure, oddly spelled--all the hallmarks of bad serial-killer poetry. Really, if you want to do this, go take a course or something first.
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1 comment:
You say that now that he's locked up tight in jail, but you'd whistle another tune if you came home and found him there. You'd lie about the poetry and ask him if he'd ever checked into getting it published. I certainly would. I always butter up bullies and murderers.
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