Under the hum of flickering lights,
a pen waits, trembling in its duty.
The air smells of paper and polish,
of stories sealed in quiet ink.
A chair creaks—truth takes its seat.
Words march out, hesitant soldiers,
each one carrying a fragment
of what the heart remembers.
The officer nods, steady as stone,
eyes tracing the path of confession.
Outside, sirens bloom like restless flowers,
their petals fading into distance.
When the final line is signed,
silence folds the room in half.
Somewhere between fear and relief,
a soul exhales
lighter, but never the same.
