The Kleptomaniac

The Kleptomaniac

He lived by himself,
In a lonely room.
It was where he would eventually,
Meet his doom.

He glanced at the lass,
So placid and calm.
He disguised his age,
And turned on the charm.

Desperate for her love,
He cried and begged.
She was strong of will,
And long-legged.

There was no woman who wouldn't,
Succumb to his whim.
Yet the tables had turned,
She had no interest in him.

Losing time and patience,
He wrestled her to the ground.
The silence was broken,
By a single sound.

For halfway through his struggle,
To drag her to bed,
She had reached out for her gun,
And shot him in the head.

Within minutes of hearing,
Her relentless screams,
Uniformed men,
Appeared on the scene.

They broke into his stronghold,
With their prying hands.
And what they would find,
They would never understand.

Hidden letters in hidden boxes,
Lined up in a stack.
He had stolen many hearts,
The Kleptomaniac.


- 13th October (A spurt of rubbish during the Economics class... Oh, it's all rubbish anyway!)

All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind