It looked like a bright lit morning.
She was awake and avoided frowning,
A sleep of five more minutes,
Could have made the day seem finite.
Wet boots and a beige coat,
Hung awaiting a sunny day ahead.
Blinded by million thoughts in riot,
She scanned in haste her heavy mind.
Sirens rang in symphony afar,
Reminding her to close the door ajar,
She had her clipboard and note,
Waiting for her ride to the station.
Brand new case remained out in the open,
A little boy had been violently murdered,
This was not one not two but a total of seven,
Worried parents of runaways harboured around.
Who could it be stared the white board?
Who has the absence of heart to commit this deed?
Subordinates blanked with only dead-end,
Clues were nil and everybody drew a blank instead.
But there was something in common,
Faces of children expressed utter calm.
Were they lost in a wondrous dream?
Seventh child yet unclaimed waited in vain.
She looked on for hours together,
Until she had a brain wave to ponder deeper,
Off she took her police motorbike,
To the drug peddlers and ruffians she had to seek.
Had she seen this boy earlier?
Around the red light of a traffic signal,
With his eyes raining clouds of heavy shower,
Just doing his part to get two square meal.
Questioning all around downtown,
Where runaways gathered upon,
Boys, girls, young adults in their teen,
Rugged, ***** but in need of touch very humane.
She wondered about the mayhem!
Were their choices made for them?
She realised all the seven missing ones,
Had once worked for a scrawny girl.
To let go her doubts,
For this reminded her once failure to close,
A case so horrific that gave her the nightmares.
She took her partner in search of the girl,
Off they rode on the horizon,
For minutes, for hours until dawn,
To find the deserted family in ruin.
Questions, answers, clues were collected,
And a revelation was horrifically found,
A girl in the midst of a family so profound,
Was assaulted, abused, ***** and her innocence robbed.
Until with an ounce of courage and vengeful mind,
She ran away till her legs no longer could.
On her trail did they follow,
To town after town astonishingly mellow,
Leaves on the paths so yellow,
Reminded of her horrid days that had made her shallow.
They followed with deep angst,
The stories that unfolded cried screams of disgust,
All her victims abused and mutilated,
As she laid the stones of thirst and distrust.
The trail stopped and kills ended,
Had she stopped for good?
Or taken a break to pray give authorities a ride?
Days, months, years passed.
The case picked dust as expected.
Yet another bright lit morning,
And a child had gone missing,
Was she back and killing?
As the police bagged the wet boots and a beige coat!
This is my second attempt at a narrative poetry and my first under the mystery genre. enjoy :)
