NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Nine, Poem Twenty-Five

I never know how poems will end,
every finish an unentered crime scene,
my first line a murder weapon, sans prints
placed undetected in my room.

Every finish an unentered crime scene,
the target undetermined by my pen
placed undetected in my room,
your name as random as a lottery.

The target undetermined by my pen,
you're looking into this too much,
your name as random as a lottery
a chalk line so randomly placed.

You're looking into this too much,
my first line, a murder weapon, sans prints,
your name as random as a lottery,
I never know how poems will end.