mardi 23 décembre 2014

The forgotten

At 2:30 am I put on my uniform and for 8-12 hours do something that matters.

You passed me on the road, I saw the face you made as you tapped the brakes and checked your speed.



Maybe you walked past me at a store, perhaps you said hi, most likely not though.



Maybe you saw me and I looked angry, not knowing that an hour ago I was first on scene to see the bodies of the young mother and child killed by a drunk driver, something that will haunt my sleep for days.



I turn on the news see the hatred and distrust that people have for my brothers and I, yet we will come when you call no matter what.



We remind you that evil exists, that there is a line between chaos and order.



At the end of my shift I go home take off my uniform and try to forget the days tragedy, not being able to show any emotion at the time because I have a job to do.



Maybe you pass me in the grocery store, even.off duty I am still watching over you but I am just a nameless, face in the crowd.



At 2:30 am I will be ready to do it all over again.





The forgotten

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