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The Robber
I am a robber of sorts you see,
A line stolen here,
A phrase snatched there,
A whole world that glowers before me.
Some want me to die,
Some want to see me suffer in vain.
But little do they know,
I say goodnight to pain.
It’s hard to have everything robbed from you,
Be robbed of what you call life,
And not want to steal,
All that’s dear to thine.
I am a robber,
I am not proud of my name,
But what else do I have,
To give to my bloodstained grave?
Copyright ©
Nina Laurendale
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