The Bandit

There is a bandit lurking in the shadow,
He stands there patiently waiting, waiting,
For he know some careless soul will be passing by.
His heart is hardened and his eyes like frozen steel
Are attuned to darkness; he has not long to wait
For that unwatching someone soon will venture by.
He has a vile intent and the evil he creates
Emits a callousness beyond imagination
Of the victim passing by.
A special breed of bandit, hell-bent to steal
Some ambulating soul, some unwary soul
That dares to venture by.
A master of his trade, his conscience formed of ice,
He feels no guilt, has no compassion
For the victim passing by.
With calm and calculated swiftness
He steps forth from the shadows, demonized and real,
To take the soul as some pathetic creature ventures by.
He leaves his victim helpless, devastated,
Defiled beyond what ever was before,
To resume his waiting for another to pass by,
And in the gloom, his sharp eyes see
Another victim
Another soul,
For the whole world ventures by.

by D.G. Cox

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