Robber.
The man of which I speak.
Is heartless, shallow yet meek,
Sly and has much wit.
The story begins at the birth.
He was a baby with no considered worth.
They told him quit talking, just sit.
Growing up, it just got worse.
His first crime was a stolen purse.
His parents never even realized it.
He vowed to get even,
For the life which he had been beaten
He told himself to never quit.
He is now a grown up man.
And he decides to make his biggest stand.
He makes his plans, eyebrows tightly knit.
Gathering his mask, bag, and gun,
He wants cash, he going out to get him some.
With no second thoughts or regret.
Nothing stopped him, for nothing could.
He was out to get his prize; even in cold blood.
Through shooting and screaming, the huge fit.
Walking away with his prize,
Disregarding all the lost lives.
Call it evil, call it selfishness, he is all of it.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
