Chapter 59: Sestina 2
It feels like forever I've been on the job.
Pinned down by the weight of my gun and my badge;
my duty is etched there, to serve and protect.
The uniforms tape off the scene of the crime
at this point, there still isn't much to report,
It promises to be one hell of a night.
My partner and I will work into the night;
It's on days like this I truly hate my job.
The worst part of all is the daily report,
Complete with the number and name from my
badge
I lay out the facts of a hideous crime.
The victim is gone; one we failed to protect.
Now my reputation I have to protect.
From hero to scapegoat – it just takes one night;
a free-roaming villain, or one unsolved crime.
To close every case is the goal of the job,
the reason each day that I put on the badge.
I wish I could put that inside the report.
The televised anchors all love to report
to viewers – the public I've sworn to protect –
The slightest mistake by one who wears the badge.
The airwaves are filled with bad news every night,
I wish that good news was a part of their job
Like how, with hard work, we usually solve the
crime.
I shudder recalling details from this crime;
gunfire – In my mind, I hear its report.
Deductive pretending is part of my job.
Sometimes sanity becomes hard to protect
when facing this ugliness night after night.
Emotions grow cold when you're wearing the
badge.
My life? A lot simpler before the gold badge.
Back then it was mostly stopping petty crime,
And helping my neighbors sleep better at night.
I still had to fill out each detailed report,
the public I still did my best to protect;
promotions happen when you're good at your job.
"Now, wearing my badge is more than just a job,"
I repeat this each night as I write my report.
"By solving these crimes, my whole world I protect."
By Dusty Grein
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