'It wasn't me, ' the man he said
though he held the smoking gun.
'and he's not dead, ' the cop replied
'he's stopped breathing just for fun.'
'Who's the victim? ' asked the press
as they looked in through the door
'if I had to guess, ' the cop said back
'him, bleeding, but not breathing,
lying face down, on the floor.”
Bill Mitton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reportage/
