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A man, old and frail,
Sitting in this room so dark,
Closes his eyes to plunge into the past,
His past, which isn’t so vast.

In the depths of his mind,
He finds two children,
A son and a daughter, no more than twelve,
Playing in the garden by themselves.

Her daughter, a fairy in human form,
Looks like love getting personified.
She looks at him, looks terrified,
Like something is burning, within her heart,
Opens her mouth, and the lullaby start,
“In the land of heavens, there resides a fairy;
As playful as a little dove.
With a gentle heart, she is a sky full of stars,
Waiting for her moon, waiting for her love.”

Clatter of metal disrupt his music,
A soldier banging his bars with a rod,
He comes back to the cell, where he is contained,
He stands up, tall and broad.

An accomplice enters his room,
The lawyer, who is going to defend.
With hand on the old man’s shoulder,
He promises that all his trouble will end.

His hands tremble, in rage and fear
And his dried up eyes, burst out a tear
For all these blames, he got to hear.
For all this pain, he has to bear.

And he closes his eyes again,
Her body flashes in front of him,
With his kitchen knife carved through her heart
And the lullabies in his ears start,
“In the land of heavens, there resides a fairy;
As playful as a little dove.
With a gentle heart, she is a sky full of stars,
Waiting for her moon, waiting for her love.”

Within the symphony he hears the claps of wood,
A wooden hammer on a raid.
He opens his eyes to find himself in a courtroom.
He opens his eyes, standing on the palisade.

He looks around, at thoughtless people,
Faint murmurs, and chatter of a typewriter,
Lawyers rustling through files and folders,
Looking to keep the blame upon his shoulders.

And the man, too old and frail,
His limbs shiver in fear and rage.
Rage, arising out of these shackles,
Fear, of ending his book on this page.
While, not much life, permits his age.
Like a bird, who is caught in a cage
Just the view of sky is no patronage,
Similarly, his freedom lures him
And fills him with more fear and rage.

The arguments begin,
The learned men, blabber their knowledge
A man approaches with the holy book.
“Keep your hand on it, and take the pledge”
Commands his accomplice, in a hushed tone,
“I pledge in the name of god;
Truth is all that I shall say.”
And this won’t be the last lie he will tell this day.

With that in process, the prosecutor pulls a knife
Which has dried up blood all through it’s surface,
And his kitchen knife is bound to have his fingerprints,
The fingerprints, which makes the prosecution’s case.

His prints and his actions,
Drag him into a shit hole;
And the prosecution “rests”
While “the defence rests”.

And while his accomplice is trying all he can;
His gaze wanders to the forensics’ table,
To find the locket which belonged to her daughter,
The locket got painted red in her slaughter.
And, he closes his eyes
And remembers about the day he gifted her this locket
How he sneakingly, slid it into her pocket,
Can’t forget the smile she had,
Later that evening, he took her to bed.

Yes, he used to molest his own daughter,
A sad truth, on which the world should weep,
But, even that brutal act doesn’t provide the courage,
To murder his own daughter, in her sleep.

And he pictures his daughter lying next to him,
A sweet little lady, with a noble heart,
The heart which is now carved out.
And with that, the lullabies start
“In the land of heavens, there resides a fairy;
As playful as a little dove.
With a gentle heart, she is a sky full of stars,
Waiting for her moon, waiting for her love.”

“If I may, I would like to call upon,
The deceased lady’s brother”
And steps upon the palisade,
Her brother from another mother.

He is a cruel, little bastard,
With a stout body, and a squinted eye.
He walks out with no remorse of what happened,
Although he may have seen his sister die.
As the old man claims that he saw him.
He was seen walking out of the crime scene,
“What’s your name? Where were you?”
And the rest of the questions follow the daily routine.

The defence presses upon his presence at the scene,
In old man’s favor, the freedom is getting named.
People get restless. “Order, order!”
They know that the young man is being falsely framed.

But, nobody knows what really happened,
The prosecution and defence, fight like wild cats embrace.
“I was the one who killed her!”
A man’s confession turned over the turning case.

A man, old and frail,
With tear on his cheeks and wobbly balance,
Confesses that he killed his daughter,
And therefore signs his last chapter.

And that man, old and frail;
Confessed to a heinous crime,
Wonder, wonder, what’s more heinous,
The crime itself, or the confession he made.

With that, he closes his eyes, and the lullaby starts,
“In the land of heavens, there resides a fairy;
As playful as a little dove.
With a gentle heart, she is a sky full of stars,
Waiting for her moon, waiting for her love.”

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