In shadows deep, where moonlight dances bright,
There walks a figure cloaked in darkest night,
A whisper soft, a rustle in the air,
Rogue, the burglar, with a daring flair.

With nimble fingers and a cunning mind,
She slips through locks, unseen, swift and kind,
Her gaze ablaze with secrets held within,
A thief of hearts, a mistress of sin.

In vaults of gold and chambers filled with jewels,
She moves with grace, a master of the rules,
Each step a gamble, every glance a dare,
Rogue, the phantom, with a deadly stare.

But beneath the mask of lies and deceit,
A soul that longs for something pure and sweet,
A heart that beats with longing for release,
A spirit seeking solace, seeking peace.

So raise a glass to Rogue, the thief so bold,
Her story written in the shadows cold,
A Poet of shadows, light, and grace,
A tale of truth, of beauty, in this place.