Author's Notes: This was a response to the "Just Be Poets" Challenge at tSFA. At least, I think it was!
Disclaimers: I'm just playing around with specific characters, (namely, Dutch Wagenbach). Hey, they're not mine, and I don't lay claim to any of them.
Drunk in my house again.
Does anyone know? Probably not.
Would they care? I doubt it.
Do I care? Hell, no.
He tore me apart.
I'm the interrogator.
I should have forced his feelings out.
Not the other way around.
Claudette could have said something.
He asked her to say he was wrong.
She thinks exactly what he thinks.
I'm just another sorry ass loser.
So I closed the case.
It doesn't matter.
So I caught a killer.
Big deal.
No one respects me.
No one knows I exist.
They think I try to impress everyone.
They think exactly what he thinks.
Why did all of these feelings stir up?
Plenty of guys have said worse about me.
I don't see why this one was any different.
I don't see why he made me cry.
I pray that no one saw that.
That would have been terrible.
That would have been the worst possible thing.
That would have given them more ammo for the battle.
I won't let anyone know about this day.
It will be treated just like so many others.
Only, now, I have to live with knowing that I broke down.
Now, I have to live with knowing how weak I really am.
Drunk in my house again.
Does anyone know? Probably not.
Does anyone care? I doubt it.
Do I care? Hell, no.
Disclaimers: I'm just playing around with specific characters, (namely, Dutch Wagenbach). Hey, they're not mine, and I don't lay claim to any of them.
Drunk in my house again.
Does anyone know? Probably not.
Would they care? I doubt it.
Do I care? Hell, no.
He tore me apart.
I'm the interrogator.
I should have forced his feelings out.
Not the other way around.
Claudette could have said something.
He asked her to say he was wrong.
She thinks exactly what he thinks.
I'm just another sorry ass loser.
So I closed the case.
It doesn't matter.
So I caught a killer.
Big deal.
No one respects me.
No one knows I exist.
They think I try to impress everyone.
They think exactly what he thinks.
Why did all of these feelings stir up?
Plenty of guys have said worse about me.
I don't see why this one was any different.
I don't see why he made me cry.
I pray that no one saw that.
That would have been terrible.
That would have been the worst possible thing.
That would have given them more ammo for the battle.
I won't let anyone know about this day.
It will be treated just like so many others.
Only, now, I have to live with knowing that I broke down.
Now, I have to live with knowing how weak I really am.
Drunk in my house again.
Does anyone know? Probably not.
Does anyone care? I doubt it.
Do I care? Hell, no.
