They Just Think They Ought To Poem by B.C. Walters

It was a quiet little cafe in a town
Twenty minutes train journey from Peterborough.
he sat with his legs crossed on the chair outside
a newspaper resting in his lap
served by the waitress born to serve him
His cigarette burned slowly towards
his 38 year old fingers
as he swept a bead of sweat from his forehead,
tempted out of his skin
by the afternoon sun.

He tutted as he read about
The teenager stabbed
In south London

He was shocked as he read about
The little girl raped
By her neighbour

But he didn't
Care

Nobody really
Cares

They just think they
Ought to