In the early morn on the city street
Druggies, prostitutes, drunks i meet
I see them all, they know the score
Dregs of humanity to the core
Each night i patrol the taverns and bars
Fights and drunks driving cars
I pick them up, locked in a cell
Then they tell me to go to hell
They sleep it off, this is their home!
They have no one to atone
The cells smell of urine and of sick
Junkies, needles another trick!
Working life is no fantasy
To a policewoman like me! called Marie!
I agree with T! A very vivid depiction of those we take for granted to uphold a quality of life...taken for granted. Nice poem.
I always have admiration for those in that job, and know that your depiction is real, and lines 7 and 8 show that touch of humanity... a sense of which it must be hard to retain when you're dealing with the 'bad 'uns''. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As the wife of an ex cop I hear you, pal. A difficult life but not without its rewards. Nice work. Irene