A short, speedy poem about doing what we must, those of us skilled and stronger. |
-Pickpocket- by Keaton Foster Slip The hand Steal The man Take Never give Always It must be Never Does it seem Right Has no place Survival A god unto itself People Like you and me Do As we must Act As required Having What is needed Owning A real chance Taking From those greater Thieving Things so required Never Could we be redeemed Pickpocket The victims call us The fittest We prefer to be known as Sin Our stone to carry Blasphemy Our cry to rally Double Is the blade wielded Prison Not for our bodies But rather Our inescapable souls God The one so cruel Our father Leaving many bastards The savior Of those who are asking Such reciprocal questions Not any of us We Those so skilled Pickpockets Thieves Doing as we must Stealing Taking what we want Robbing Such unsuspecting victims They The victims Those oddly fortunate Wanna believe Live to feel As if everyone is good Both righteous And right When in fact That is what we And dare I say Many of them Are least of all The difference is And will always be That we know it Pickpockets Slip The hand Steal The man Take Never give Always It must be Never Does it seem Right Has no place Survival A god unto itself We The thieves And the victims The having And the surviving Willingly And unknowingly Are doing What must be done Pickpocket We’ll steal everything In the name of our Very own something… Pickpocket Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |