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Really Nice but Tough as Nails

A ballad about a double murder

By Denise SheltonPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
Really Nice but Tough as Nails
Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

She built her house of brick, so long ago

It weathered storms, withstood the summer sun

Her husband flew the friendly skies

But everything once-living dies

So after 40 years, his life was done

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

A prisoner waiting for his judgment day

She raised two boys before her husband passed

Ivy League degrees both had in hand

A loving family deeply proud

And she refused to cry out loud

When both of them moved far across the land

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

One of her sons was taken much too soon

She buried him beside his father’s grave

To lose a child at any age

Can fill the heart with pain and rage

But memories lingered of the love she gave

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

Her other son came often as he could

Although she was confined now to her bed

She wouldn’t leave her house of brick

Or fall for any feeble trick

“I’ll die at home or not at all,” she said

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

Hired women helped her get along

Assisting her in living day-to-day

At 97 years of age

She knew that soon she’d turn life’s page

And all her sorrows soon would pass away

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

A Christmas visit from her loving son

Each thinking that it well could be the last

Determining to do it right

They stayed up late and talked all night

Surrounded by the ghosts of Christmas past

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

After New Year’s day, a man came by

Bearing fresh baked cookies on a plate

From her room, she heard her son

Voices raised then it was done

And she was left to wonder at his fate

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

She called out to her son all day and night

Until she lost her voice, he never came

She would not eat again that day

Or any other, sad to say

She wet the bed and felt the sting of shame

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

Awakened by strange sounds she prayed and prayed

Please, God, let this be a friendly face

But he who grabbed her was a stranger

Truly she was now in danger

He bound and dragged her to a darkened place

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

From a faint, she wakened to the smell

Of gasoline and smoke, the room on fire

And in the flickering fire’s light

She saw her son, now dead, ignite

Her gasp, her last, then caused her to expire

Really nice but tough as nails they say

A filthy shame she had to go that way

The evil man who took her life

Without a gun, without a knife

Sits in a cell and waits for judgment day

sad poetry

About the Creator

Denise Shelton

Denise Shelton writes on a variety of topics and in several different genres. Frequent subjects include history, politics, and opinion. She gleefully writes poetry The New Yorker wouldn't dare publish.

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