If I Were a Poet

I was the world’s fastest man,
able to sprint like a cheetah,
so you had to take my legs.
I had the most enchanting voice,
able to convince people to do anything,
so you had to take my mouth.
I had almost everything,
and anything I didn’t have I could buy,
so you had to take my money.

I loved the feel of the world beneath my feet,
the sense of being in control of everything around me.
After all I’d lost
there was still an insatiable thirst
that could not be cured
and so, finally, you had to take my life.