Bottom Of The Pile Poem by Lawerence Mize, Sr.

We carry guns;
We're trained you see.
Spent years on the street
To keep you safe and free.
Now, we're Bailiffs.
Court cases we hear.
Still keeping things safe,
So there's nothing to fear.
Now, comes the Judge.
The center of our focus.
Keep him or her safe.
Can't stand no ruckus.
Do more than stand
As the Judge moves the docket.
Watch all the people
With hands in their pocket's.
Look for signs
Of possible danger.
On high alert;
Not everyone's an angel.
Day in and day out,
We continue on.
Doing our thing
Keeping Judges safe from harm.
Yet when it comes
To getting decent pay.
The big cheese says no,
Ain't no way.
We're at the bottom of the pile,
Contractual you see.
Some of us fall.
Some of us bleed.
If only someone cared.
They'd recognize the need.
Someone help me,
Help me please.