Nemesis

He flips the numbers, swaps the streets,  

Knocks on doors that shouldn’t meet.  

Yet every clue, misplaced or blurred,  

Becomes a truth that others heard.

He reads the signs in backward light,  

Finds justice where the maps aren’t right.  

The system sighs, “He’s out of line,”  

But still he solves it—every time.

[Bridge]

Numbers are his nemesis  

Even letters get out of line  

What a twisted way to exist  

But he smiles, he's doing fine  

Addresses blur, the maps mislead  

Yet truth still knocks on every door  

He solves the case with sideways creed  

A prophet in a world of score  

They call him lost, they call him slow,  

But he’s the one who makes truth grow.  

A prophet in a crooked coat,  

Who cracks the case by misread note.