[Poem] Dramatic Monologue: The job of a dective is never easy

[Castle Pokemetroid]

The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?


You may ask what had kept me so late this night, my boy
For what reason had I been held back?
So you see, the deed had been done,
but that's not what you wanted to know just yet, is that not to be correct?
It was late at the scene of a crime, that must be right.
Too late, to be exact, my boy

The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?
The wails of a wife, the crys of a siren
The noise refused to silenced
To find, that is what I do,
but even so, the dead don't always rest easy
Mr. Chimney, was it?
Poor man, his life taken before his time
What reason had the killer have to end a sort of kind fellow he be?
Answers as such are expected from none but myself
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
From the testimonies found thus yet, he be a normal fellow,
Kind to all he knew
But why had he have to die, my boy?
Why did he have to be so cowardly and fragile?
To break under the hands and dagger of his killer
For the way his flesh was rended was most shameful
The killer be, never found he was
But you can tell the way that the body was carved,
Fun it was, or perhaps fun it might of been,
To be that very killer who shaped the body of that man
Into something that not even the devil himself would accept
That soft, tender flesh, tempting, is it not?
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

The killer lost, never found he was
The law is never all knowing, but is it just?
That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Who was he again, my boy?
Perhaps you know more about him than you think
That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
He had a killer, and a grusome one at that
The killer be, never found he was
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

To escape the hands of the lead detective is a great feat, let me tell you, my boy
Out of cases nearing a hundred in number, and years of service unknown,
The lead detective be great a man at the title he held
How is it be that a killer, no matter the intent, be able to escape the lead detective?
The killer lost, never found he was
To be his very own shadow, than man must be
The law is never all knowing, but is it just?
That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Who was he again, my boy?
Was he not a man of great importance to you?
Perhaps not in your life?
Think back towards the past, and think of memories since gone
Was he not someone important to you, my boy?

That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Kind to all he knew
But why had he have to die, my boy?
Why did he have to be so cowardly and fragile?
Run, was that not what he did?
Escape as he tried, but it had been for naught
The killer lost, never found he was
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

The cold of the steel, the softness of the flesh
That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Who was he again, my boy?
Was he not a target whose life was cut by a man
Who knew naught of who he was?
The dagger, oh how great it must of been,
To have the cold of the steel pierce the softness of the flesh
Heart sill pumping, veins still pouring
That soft, tender flesh, tempting, is it not?
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

The killer lost, never found he was
The lead detective be great a man at the job that he held
How is it be that a killer, no matter the intent, be able to escape the lead detective?
To escape the lead detective!
What mad a concept!
Great a man he was, more fit that any other he be!
With law and men at side, escape is but a dream of a person mad
But even so, how is that the killer escaped?
To be his very own shadow, than man must be
The killer lost, never found he was

Now think again, my boy
How is it be that a killer, no matter the intent, be able to escape the lead detective?
Through death it not possible, as the body found, it would be
Through passage it not possible, as men surrounded, it would be
Through veichle not indeed, as blocked, it would be
Now think again, my boy
How is it be that a killer, no matter the intent, be able to escape the lead detective?
The law is never all knowing, but is it just?
Was it the law that allowed the killer to escape?
Or was it the authority?
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

The killer lost, never found he was
If not by escape, then how can it be?
But what if found he was?
What reaction would you expect, my boy?
Run not be possible, and fight not be as well?
Through death, or passage, or run it not be,
But how was it that the killer was able to escape the lead detective?
To escape the lead detective!
What mad a concept!
Think of it as you may, but it not be possible

That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Who was he again, my boy?
Was he a man of importance?
One who existed in your life?
Not just your life, but all the citizens of the city as well?
An important figure he be, one who gave you all that you know, my boy?
The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?

The killer lost, never found he was
If not by escape, then how can it be?
How is it be that a killer, no matter the intent, be able to escape the lead detective?
Why, it be mad as the concept of the lead detective not existing at all!
But what if that to be truth, my boy?
Mad it may seem, but truth it could be
But if the lead detective had not existed at the scene of the crime,
How can that be, when he was the very man at the center of attention?

The killer lost, never found he was
But how was it that the killer was able to escape the lead detective?
Why, a corpse, the lead detective must of been!
That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Who was he again, my boy?
Was he a man of importance?
Or perhaps but a corpse?

But if the lead detective be dead, my boy, how can this be
That I remember and can describe the coldness of the steel plunged deep into his flesh?
To be stabbed and slashed, how many times was it, my boy?
Too many times to count by sight, but the number I remember
Oh how great it must of been, to be in the shoes of the killer
To slide the cold of the steel into the softness of the flesh
To hear the yells and the screams
To know the thrill of inflicting pain on those you know
To make the deed done

But go back to the beggining of when I began, my boy
What was it now?
What had kept me so late this night, is that right?
Only now I returned, but how can this be?
What purpose be that could keep me this late, and by what purpose?
Why, by this eve of twilight, slaying, of course!
Why, by such an act, was it not the reason I had not come home at all?
Slaying! What fun, what joy, is that not right, my boy?

The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?
It be a career filled with danger and corpses
But is it not a career that can keep you from returning home?
To be the lead detective, what great a man.
Had never a criminal escape his grasp?
Why, to get close enough, a killer would have to be family, would he not?
But who was the one who was killed again?

That man, Mr. Chimney, was it?
Who was he again, my boy?
Was he not someone important to you?
The one who had clothed and fed you for all the years of your life?
Who may that Mr. Chimney be, if he was killed by hand so foul?
Chimney, Chimney, Chimney
Who may this man be?
Was there not a detective who had a simular, if not, same name as he?

The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?
Catching criminals who refused to be caught,
Or taught, perhaps in some cases
A detective is but a human, same as you or I, my boy
They can understand and learn,
A trait you have yet to develope, my boy
Why, had you not rebelled against your father just this night?
Why, great a lesson you could learn, from this lead detective man.

But think as you may, there are mysteries yet unsolved at hand
Why had I returned late this night?
Who is this Mr. Chimney person?
How did the killer escape?
And, my boy, what happened to your father?

This man, Mr. Chimney, killed he was, but how, other than by blade?
A fit man he was, great and strong, built up by many years of running and chasing
Killed by dagger, sure, but how could it be, other than stab from the back?
Sharp man he be, would it not be hard to sneak up on such a great and wonderful man?
Why, you'd have to be the man's own son to sneak up as close as the killer must of been!
And if the lead detective be missing, what a disarray the detective's office must of been!
The lead detective, the sole reason that as many criminals had been caught as there was.
If he had not been, why, the detective's office could do nothing against a killer!

To escape from such chaos, why, a child could do so, wouldn't you think, my boy?
And that solved the mysteries we had at hand, did it not?
All in one fell swoop, but that is natural, for the lead detective that is.
Now I ask of you, I had solved all but the last and first of our mysteries.
Still two remain, but I think even you could guess the answer to these, my boy

Why had I returned late this night?
And, my boy, what happened to your father?
And, why not, it must be asked, my boy,
a third, but simple question of my own choosing,
one I wish answered from your own mouth.
My question:
Why?

The job of a detective is never easy, but why must that be?