Role-Play

He slams it shut That poor car's door And trudges towards His little old house Feet tired and hands Calloused, worked He leans his head Ever so slightly Against his front door Fingers balled up Into tight, heavy fists He counts slowly To ten and backwards And breathes deeply He can hear ruckus Inside the home he loves Trying to remind himself Of his wonderful life Begging his conscious To fly away into oblivion Today was a hard day A bad case, a terrible Crime and an ugly corpse He puts on a smile Whisking away his frown His front door swings Open and remains ajar When he gazes deeply Into the eyes of his lover And notes the smiles On his children's faces He knows demons can sleep