They are thieves, and yet they walk in
"No forced entry."  has been the told tale
"Oh, home sweet home." sighs the owner.
A stranger in his home, but his home all the same
He knows every cranny
He'll sit and watch them raid the cupboards,
they leave when full...Broken bottles, Cigarettes strewed

He was made for a 100 miles.
Born for The Chase
Gathering arms, declaring the hunt

All day I run with no end in sight
My gaze has weakened
So again I rise, and lift my head to stare down the horizon
I will run a 100 miles and even more,
Until exhaustion grips my foes, bringing them to the dirt
I tower over what once dominated,
And looking down
I see them...

Clawing at my feet for mercy.
Choking between sobs, they curse me.

Snot bubbles form, laced with dust.
Terror takes its grip.
They beg me, "lets us go, you must!"

Our eyes meet, and silence takes reign.
I stretch out my hand, wink, and say thanks for the pain.