The Thief

As the clock begins to chime,
they go about their life of crime.
Up and down throughout your house,
Sometimes as quiet as a mouse.
Seeing what they are able to steal,
To fund another drugged up deal.

No chance for a moment of regret,
No apology for making them fret.
Not stopping to think what another might feel.
From the shock of it all, their victims reel.
Your watch he’d take or even your bike,
In fact he’ll go with whatever he’d like.

On their bikes, I’ve seen them scout
As off they go riding about.
Meeting up around the park,
Blatant not waiting until the dark.

Then as they creep about in their dark glasses
They hoods that they wear won’t cover their arses.
In your sleep suddenly awake,
As your safety net they break.
Not concerned for all the distress,
They couldn’t care any less.
Can view the hatred in their face,
Around this godforsaken place.
Sometimes a robber, always a thief
No desire to turn over a new leaf.
Done for a fix, or to pay the rent,
Their anger, uncontrolled they vent.

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