Caught in the middle of crime,
The thief waits for his next skill.
Your days are numbered like his,
But the days are too far away.
My thief worked all day, just all the way,
Always seeking money from the rich,
Gaining new food and tools for his protection.
The last sky was littered with food of his house,
The house was bitter with talk and losing.
He was a thief in the very sight, the thief.
Naveed Akram
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/seen-him/
