I am not here to talk about my past.
I'm here to do a job that must be done.
In certain situations I think fast
In others, I leave that to everyone
That I command; I know my people well,
I like them, more than I would like to say,
And since I don't have to, I'll never tell,
Except when I'm afraid one of them may
Be gone forever. Even then I speak
In monosyllables I clip and grunt
For fear of seeming somehow soft or weak.
As part of that, my colleagues bear the brunt
Of deep sarcasm, hiding warmth inside,
But they all know I care. I cannot hide.
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