The crowd gather at
the center of the city
Their means are stolen

There is a suspect
walking through the gaping crowd
Something is stolen

There is a suspect
guilty until Judges prove
innocent and clear

Bags of gold litter
street sides, baggages roll over
More stuff are stolen

Searchlights beam, more lights
The suspect is the lone thief
buying handshakes hard

It’s arresting time
Then the thief steals himself, and
baggages grow heads

*Inspired by the text prompt.