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Maranda Thomas Mar 2017
Small children in the
Yard, laughing and running by
With rosy red cheeks and
Bright blue eyes, playing pretend
Games of bad guys and good guys.
Haych Jan 2017
pm
the problem
with heroes
is that everyone thinks
they're perfect
until they're not.

its almost as if
people can't stand to deal
with the dark sides of people that exist*

nobody likes discovering
the skeletons that we keep
they'll tell you they care
that they'll always be there
that there's nothing
that could ever
change their mind
until something does

then suddenly
curtains are closed
all good that has once been done
disappears into smoke

people love to say
tell me the truth over a lie any day
but when truth comes knocking
*suddenly they're the ones running away
They call us when things are bad.
When no one else can help.
When all their ways have failed.
When life is over.

They release us.
When war is inevitable.
When the enemy was won.
When all is lost.

They force us to help.
When they can't help themselves.  
When bad does more than good.
When plans fall to the ground.

They call us the bad guys.
Well we are bad.
But not evil.
We have honour among thief's.

Who are we?
The last option.
The one who are thrown under the bus.
The Suicide Squad.
archwolf-angel Mar 2016
Beings of untold stories
The words out their mouths
Blunt and fearful
The look on their faces
Stern and frightful
The glares they give
Cold and deadly

Unapproachable once or twice
Maybe for several months
Never imagined as nice
Stepping on their toes did not seem too wise

Miraculous gatherings
Opening of the hearts
Soft tender tales flows out of their lips
Secret wonders of getting things done

They seem like they could be
The witches of the darkest forest
The devils of the deepest hell
Your worst nightmares

But beneath all that, I believe
They are the warmest of hearts
The gentlest angels
Your sweetest memories

This is about...

...the bad cops' unspoken stories.
In love with the scariest yet the most respected ones. The badasses.

— The End —