The thief sat before the telly
And ate his sandwich of white bread
I told him brown was better,
'My mind can't get healthy.' he said.
'If I allow it to think, it hurts me,
It doesn't like to be woken up,' he joked.
'If I think I know what I am...'
He ate some and choked.
And I watched him do it
And came to his aid
I cleared his windpipe quickly
And he smiled as he laid
'It's good not to let it breathe.'
He tapped at his head
'For thought is more comfortable
When thought is long dead.'
I watched him get up
And take some of my things
He explained as he stole,
'It's sadness life brings.'
'For when I am with you
I can talk like most won't
Society's less pungent
When I've done what most don't.'
He walked to the door
'Who are you?' I said.
'Just another aimless person,
Who was easily lead.'
He turned off the telly
And said to me slow
'Do not wish to travel
Where you cannot go.
We're of a generation
Who's lives have been taken
By dreams that hurt more
When we suddenly awaken.'
'I want to be a princess!'
He mimicked and smiled
'I want to be a rockstar.'
In the voice of a child.
'Me, I am happy,
for at least I know true.
We live in the shadow
Of the things we can't do.'
'Don't dream, my friend
For we are all forsaken.'
He held up my things.
'And our dreams are oft' taken.'
A thief, metaphorically what we may find in life if we let ourselves slip up.