The World As We Know It~ Poetry and Advice for Life

Kleptomaniac

It was her.
The missing food,
The lost possession.
She couldn't help it.
She didn't want to stop,
She knew she shouldn't do it.
She wanted to feel remorse,
She didn't feel the guilt.
The toys.
The scents.
The candy.
She wanted them for herself.
She didn't want to do it,
She did it.
In places of older times,
The hands of thieves,
Would be removed.
Her have are there,
She knows of old tradition.
She keeps her hands,
But her knuckles are scarred.
The money.
The jewelry.
The objects.
She knows it's bad,
She punished herself,
She damages the things that do it.
She scrapes.
She bites.
She cuts.
Hey knuckles are wounded,
So is hey mind.
She is a kleptomaniac,
And she knows it.

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Since no one reads these notes at the end, I'll say that I've been picking up old habits. I've been stealing. When I steal, I hurt my hand somehow. I wrote this in math class on 1/31/17.