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I was investigating the murder case,
I found a phone from the tracks of race.
Just behind the racing ground,
The lifeless body was traced and found.
She was a girl in her early teens,
Drops of blood had filled the greens.
She was stabbed a couple of times,
And I am an expert in solving crimes.
Her top was drenched in oozing blood,
My mind was flushed in an unknown flood.
Several questions here and there,
Danced inside my sulcus layer.
The phone I found was locked from inside,
I broke through codes from every side.
In one go, the phone was hacked,
Unveiling mysteries neatly packed.
I opened the gallery to find those thoughts,
Caged inside a few bright screenshots.
They were the WhatsApp chats, I read,
And following each line as they were said
Her name was Sirin, I got to know,
She hailed from the lands of mountain snow.
She loved a guy with all her heart,
And the guy was too brute in art.
She came here with few vibrant dreams,
Uncontrolled desires and flimsy whims.
She caught him red to kiss a girl,
Concealed behind a dirty wall.
She went ahead and clicked a few snaps,
And came back silent with bigger gaps.
She texted him with grudge and rage,
A burning soul was in her cage.
Her screenshots told me all at once,
She took up risks and played her chance.
The guy was scared to get exposed,
The door to life must now be closed.
He chose to lure her to this spot,
With filthy tricks and clever thoughts.
The field behind the racing track,
Was devoid of humans, safe to whack.
He stabbed the girl with a gleaming knife,
Till she breathed her final life.
He threw her phone down the ground,
And on the racing track, I found.
Those screenshots helped me trace the guy,
Hidden beneath the mazarine sky.
I locked him behind the iron bars,
To ensure, he must feel the curse.
Screenshots made this a simple game,
To catch hold of the real name.
To throw him into the darkest cell,
Where each day, he will breathe in hell.
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