Informer!

Poetry

She flips when she hears your secrets.
Demoted to the FBI, you now spend your day peddling lies.
Calculating, she looks at you as she plots your demise.
Sizing you up for termination.
She’s wise to your cries for special consideration.

But it didn’t start here.
This is the end of the tale.
It began with a trap so allow me to regale.
Looking back, the mission started on a park bench.
Most begin this way, it wasn’t that far-fetched.
At the time you were CIA.
Rival spies often clocked you a mile away.
Let’s just say… subtlety was not your specialty.
So you decided to up your game.
One last mission to show your superiors what they’d been missing.
Cos you had big plans and wanted to show them your vision.
But let’s face it, you weren’t spy material.
Rivals had you for breakfast. Espionage cereal.
So you cooked up a coup, all whispy and ethereal.
Least that’s what you thought, ’til it became hyper-real.

Escalating to the point of civil war.
And to top it off, fucking up wasn’t even a chore.
There you were, flouting international law like a zen master.
A God among men, yet a total chancer.
A show pony, a reindeer, Prancer and Dancer.
And then it came crashing down.
You missed your ultimate goal.
Ending up most wanted of Interpol.
So you turned double agent and became a mole.
A snitch, a grass, call it what you will.
You folded on friends and colleagues alike, it took real skill.

Frantic, you made deals left and right to save your hide.
Your antics? A classic panic to avoid doing time inside.
Then in she walked, right into your life.
A femme fatale that had your senses screaming.
Your defences down, what could she be scheming?
In an instant, you fell in love.
Betraying your country you were hand in glove.
With her by your side you were a man that was tough.
Somehow though, you knew it wouldn’t last.
And sure enough she betrayed you.
Leaving you trapped like an animal in a caged zoo.

Then down came the pain.
What career was this?
You were left in tatters as you got dismissed.
An old spy, most wanted with no alibi.
Part of you wanted to lay down and die, but you had spirit.
Stating your case it was a miracle when others chose to hear it.
Then, like a phoenix, you blazed back.
Solving old cases watching bad men fall and take the rap.
Even so, there’s a long way to go.
You’re still raw and torn up.
But that’s the price you pay to play, Mr Informer.

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