The Man and The Theft

By , Mitchell, SD
The light will always been dim,
And the skies will stay grey,
That’s what he learned,
That tragic day,
All that he thought,
Was all that he knew,
He deciphered that to be true,
Wind was meant to be cold,
The water was meant to be a dirty blue,
Every human was meant to be lonely,
Never a me and you,
Love was some hoax,
It was a trap,
A game at most,
Life was a test,
Always floating in a mess,
The man was sad,
His heart was bittersweet,
His hands were cut and calloused,
As well as his feet,
His life was bad,
His memories all but glad,
He loved once upon a time,
But once upon a times were just dreams,
Like heart shaped boxes were damned things,
His wife was taken away,
By a thing called death,
And his son was maimed and taken,
From the same theft,
The man was now ninety-two,
He was wrinkled and quiet,
But his mind was twisted,
And his thoughts hatefully definite,
He closed his eyes and sighed in pain,
He listened to the pitter-patter of the ever falling rain,
“Come with me and be set free,”
The Theft’s voice rang in the air,
The man felt his hopeless despair,
“I have nothing hidden to confess;
My life has been nothing but a wasted mess,”
His last words were full of pain,
But his heartache was finally tame.





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