I, Avarice

A desirous heart with a scavenger's eye

Fixated only on your possession

With the will of a thousand hunters,

Starved and in pursuit

And the mastery of an artist

Perceptively in tune

He extends a steady hand

And you think nothing of it

When gathering his demands

And surrendering them to him

I will be the keeper of everything that they hold dear

I will take pleasure in making it all disappear

Such a smooth deceiver

Grinning as he leaves them

Empty handed and broken

Feeling like givers not victims

So graciously fooled in that moment

Where even your heart you'd have thought

A relief to unburden into him

Had he shown the appetite

Heavy steps carry his departure

Pockets filled with victories

The most satisfying of pleasures

This wicked sense of glory

I will be the keeper of everything that they hold dear

I will take pleasure in making it all disappear