Robber
You broke into the window of my life, leaving shards of glass stuck in the skin of my loved ones. You hide inside for a while, waiting for the right time to strike. You start slowly inching your way in, using bloody noses and faints to pick the lock. It's not long until you start to grow, spreading your fingers throughout my structure. Your first theft is my strength. You wear away at my muscles and bones and create bulging swells inside my mind. Though we call the cops and have the technicians cut out the mass, you still don't take off your ski mask and surrender. You steal tears as they flow down for me, their rightful owner and you use them to cause even more pain. I try to build a security system of pills and needles to wrestle you out. My main protector fights your microscopic army, even though he steals my hair. In a way, he's also a robber. I refuse to be kidnapped by you. To be taken along with all the thousands of others you've wrongfully claimed yours. Like all thieves, you take and all you give is anguish. It might not be me, but someone, someday, will bring you to justice and seal you away in a prison from which there is no escape. We shall defeat you along with your other diseased allies so that you may never rob from anyone else again.