I enter the house, so quiet and calm, I pass in the hall I pass a pram
Mum and dad snuggled up on seat, doing their best but I still hear them weep
I stand at the door and take a deep sigh, before entering the room where baby died
My eyes wonder the room as I walk to the cot, other officers in the room, no one says a lot
I look at the baby who still looks asleep, I find it hard in myself, as I try not to weep
These are the cases I hate to see, I try to hide the emotions deep within me
I know the pain the parents go through, but I have a job, I know what I have to do
Soon they’ll feel like suspects, although they may not be the one to blame, but I have to take everything as evidence all the same
I give a nod for the body to be taken away, how did the baby die, mostly we don’t know
I question the parents, which I really hate, but suffering the same loss, it’s my strongest trait
It makes it worse, not having a reason to tell, a death of a baby is nothing but Hell
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