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Rated: E · Poetry · Detective · #2296094
A poem about a detective racing to solve a murder.
In the dark of night, a crime was done,
A life was lost, a soul undone,
The streets were silent, the air was still,
As the detective arrived, to climb the hill.

The victim lay there, cold and still,
The detective's heart began to chill,
He knew this case, would be hard to solve,
As he searched for clues, he tried to evolve.

The moon shone bright, the stars a guide,
As he looked for answers, he tried to hide,
The killer was out there, still on the run,
And the detective knew, he'd have to be cunning.

He searched high and low, inside and out,
Every corner, every shadow, he had no doubt,
That he'd find the killer, bring them to justice,
And restore peace, to this town of rust.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months,
As the detective searched, he heard no grunts,
The trail was cold, the leads were few,
And despair began to settle, on the detective's crew.

But then one day, a tiny clue,
A footprint left, in the morning dew,
It led the detective, to a hidden lair,
And he knew, the killer was in there.

He drew his gun, he held his breath,
As he entered the lair, he felt his chest,
The killer was waiting, but the detective was ready,
And with a single shot, the killer lay steady.

The case was solved, the town at peace,
The detective's work, a masterpiece,
He'd restored order, to this place,
And the people, they began to embrace.

The detective walked away, a job well done,
A life was lost, but justice won,
He knew this case, would stay with him,
As he walked into the night, and let it dim.
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