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Enter Poem or Quote (Required) The neighbours complained again of the noise Of yelling and screaming and a bully's poise So we attended and entered through the front door On a common law power of entry against violence to explore So there was a 13 year old boy cowering in his room Crying and holding his broken arm and needing treatment soon A mother was sitting at a table shaking and crying too Prowling around the house was a fit looking man as his demands grew The first thing that he said in the hallway of the house Was f..k off and you c..ts get out the violence to espouse We certainly weren't going to leave whilst there was danger And started an investigation that was not in the man's favour It came out that the boy was a couple of minutes late And so the father had enforced a rule and his arm he did break Then it had continued through the house with the father ranting his rules This was the noise that the neighbours heard calling the boy and his mother fools It came out during the investigation that the mother had broken bones With the last needing surgery and a hospital stay with excuses not flown The wife and the son would not give a statement and go to court Even though there was domestic violence in the fathers rout But we could not leave them with the man of the house And although the evidence was a bit thin we arrested this spouse He told me that he wouldn't go with us and to p..s off and leave As we loaded him into the police car and he was not pleased So we went back to that police station and he threatened us As we put him in the cell he made quite a fuss The next day the prosecutors negotiated with his lawyer And in the end the case had to be dropped even with an implore You see neither the wife or the son would tell their story And the man of the house would return in his glory As he was leaving the station house I saw him the next day And he gave me a smile and said wasting your time anyway The police went back there often over the years And there were times when the mother and son were in tears The question that I ask when I think of this time Did we make it better or worse in trying to be kind? © Paul Warren Poetry
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