The Thief Poem by John Lance

The Thief



Behold, this round room
with all doors closed but one.
The room is filled with light
where once there was none.

This is the remnant
of a once great community,
now but a shattered shadow
of its once great unity.

The tired ones lay awake amidst
the forced slumber of the nocturnal.
This is the new night,
with vigilance eternal.

Gone are the days
when good men slept in peace.
Every door is locked,
except for the thief’s.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: dark,truth
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