The Perfect TheftA Poem by Dressed in Poetry
He had always been
A kleptomaniac –
Anything and everything
That he could see
Fell into his hands –
But he also had the ability
To be sneaky and sly as well.
No one ever knew it was
He who had stolen from them;
They attributed it to their
Own mistakes, or, in the
Cases of his best thefts,
Never even noticed.
He did not find particular
Joy in stealing things,
Nor in the possession
Of all those items –
Many he actually ended
Up giving away, like
Some twisted Robin Hood
Of Central Park –
But rather in the knowledge
That he had seamlessly
Pulled off a crime.
He stole relentlessly,
Until he became the
Best – no regrets,
No worries,
Not ever.
The perfect theft,
His ultimate prize,
Was made on a
Windy spring day.
The woman was in
Her late twenties –
Maybe early thirties –
And she always kept
Her door innocently,
Invitingly,
Unlocked.
It was this day
That he entered her home
And stole from her
Her most valued possession:
Her life.
© 2008 Dressed in Poetry |
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1 Review Added on April 17, 2008 AuthorDressed in PoetryNorman, OKAboutJe m'appelle Lauren. I'm very dramatic. Other random things about me: - I have a passionate love for all things ironic. - 80% of what I say is sarcastic. - I like big words. They are fun. - I .. more..Writing
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