A masked bandit crawling to no more sunsets
Lies within a dark corner of my home.
No longer will he search through my trash.
Instead I am writing his epithets
As his mouth produces a noxious foam
That ties into his spasms as his legs thrash.
The moment will pass when I am upset.
And his life will pass in the gloam
As I take the blade and thrust in a flash.
My forehead beads with sweat
and I fight tears knowing that his days of roam
Are over due to a quick smash.
The child witness has seen life's roulette
take this animal to become part of the loam.
But I will tuck my pain and anguish into the dark cache.
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