A stigma, I can’t erase it
A strong urge, I can’t resist it
To pilfer, that longing
To make off with, that longing

Wherever I am, I try to hide it
Wherever I am, to hide refuses it
And so, always I am isolated
By the people, I am deserted

Thief! Being called that I have become used to
Sometimes I drift, even when I’m not referred to
So shameful, so disgraceful, so abashing
So frustrating, so tiring, I feel like vanishing

The cheapest and weirdest of things I steal
Yes. Handkerchiefs, socks, and all sorts for real
Sometimes I do it without realizing it
As so deep into me has gotten it

No one will consider me a friend
No, not even a parent
Of a Klepto, who would be proud?
Not even me, I aint proud

A stigma I can’t erase
A Kleptomaniac
An urge I can’t resist

6 thoughts on “Klepto” by Ezeama Chijioke Desmond (@Chijy)

  1. That urge is worse than stealing. A thief can remove things without a trace but a Klept will leave trails every where. They disappear things in the most embarassing pattern. Besides that, they still only unuseful and worthless items.

  2. Yes bro. It’s indeed worst. And thanks for stopping by.

  3. A great poem. Loved it.

  4. Good one….nice lines

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