Good cop

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by IssyVaal

by IssyVaal

October 3, 2021. 5:44 AM

Good cop
Barefoot
He wore his skin like an armour
His feet bare

Simple and quite
Bare
But his soul, overdressed
Caged and armed

He carried around nothing
A bag full of mementos and change
Cigarettes to hide with

What more?
He would ask
And it was true
His soul carried weight no one could bare

Pain and suffering
Secrecy even for himself
There was no space for anything more
No vacancy for pure love
Pure calmness or sobriety

Dusted lungs
Absent air
Just smoke

He never allowed anyone in
He knew better
His skin was enough to keep the secrets
Events documented only by him and by those who haunted the victims

Pain so harsh
People would break from hearing the truth
People would die if some secrets were out

He wasn't one to enjoy people suffering
So he kept secrets
Secrets of events so damned, they could distort even the most deranged

It was a war everyday
By himself
Cigarettes, those were his friends
And like any of his friends, they were evil
At least cigarettes were hypocrite
Calm before the kill

No one would ever get a glimpse
Not even a peek
Of what he hid for so many years
Secrets that are meant to remind as such
It is hard to carry that weight
But he knew, he knew no one else could
Him alone.