The Tale of a Snitch Goblin

His peering and plotting through drunken red eyes.
The wobbling and slurring, his only disguise.

All of the things, he will wittiness each day.
Bobbling ideas, of how they will pay.

Quick is the daylight, when one only drinks.
Clouding and shortening, the time that he thinks.

Everything, he had planned, went way to fast.
Continually waking, with less of the past.

Feeling the victim, and never ahead.
Hanging to life by a thread til he's dead.

With no one to care for, unable to love.
Blind to the light, that will shine from above.