Thieves of Summer

A letter on the desk,
A little blood on the pen,
And inside the dark room
Was where they found a friend.

Torn and battered,
Bruised with such a scar,
The criminals took everything
But they had taken it too far.

Caution on the lips,
Pain fresh in the eyes,
They were cruel to this one
Who muttered useless cries.

Now a pool of blood,
Crimson and sanguine,
Covers the wooden floor
As the recorder of this sin.

Such a surprise
I can imagine in my head.
The want for more riches
Has left a friend now dead.