Three years ago, I fell off a steeple.
My fall was broken by three people.
When this happened, it was very grim.
I weigh 600 pounds and I killed all three of them.
My family doesn't understand why I'm always in a bad mood.
It's quite apparent that my family has never eaten prison food.
Three days ago, the damn Warden decided to put me on a diet.
If you tell people that it makes me unhappy, I won't deny it.
I'm only being fed three beans each day.
For the next ten years it will be this way.
Before I was arrested, I had no idea how much trouble I would get in.
If I'm ever released from this rat-infested dump, I'll never come here again.
(This is a fictional poem)