The night was black, but for the twinkling stars.
A bearded man sat behind iron bars.
Alone and solitary he wrote in a book,
Because of the cold, he violently shook.
His eyes were baggy, for lack of sleep.
His heart felt like, off a mountain to leap!
His life was sad, his morale low…
His days were draggy, his nights slow.
Striking off the days on his wall.
He wondered whether, he once again, could hear her call.
Her face appeared in his mind.
He thought of her touch – gentle and kind.
He remembered why he was here.
The incident in his mind was crystal clear.
That day they had an argument.
He was in the prison cell the next moment.
He had killed her, the one with the gentle touch,
He now understood her worth, he missed her so much!
At the crack of dawn he made a decision.
He went through his plan with great precision.
The alarm in the jail was heard with a twist.
No. 58964 had slit his wrist!!!
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