1Splash, tears say on dry cement, quickly turn it wet
and evaporate in the heat; furious at the cheat -
the scam that left hope dangling from frayed rope.
Angels' chorus broken - murderer takes his token.
Your heart stops beating because its better than screaming
for a justice that won't come and will never be done.
Years unravel in fragmented strands while peace sits, waiting in the stands.
And you sigh, deep and low; wondering, where will fall the fatal blow?
A/N: The title of this poem is how I was feeling when I wrote it. I've had a lot of people ask me what the title has to do with the poem, so there you go. Mystery solved, and we didn't even have to call Scooby-Doo ;-).