The Tin Can's Judgement Poem by Dillon Gay

My head hung low, crowd screaming around
Yelling as if they knew I was Hell-bound
They are all wrong, I am a martyr of my belief
If I die, would it really give you relief?

The tin can was the only thing that kept me from dying in an instant
Through my anxiety, I must keep my balance constant.
For I was to be hung you see
The noose around my neck stung like a bee

As the tin can wobbled, the crowd roared
Then my adrenaline level soared
When I bowed my head to pray
The mob wondered what was at bay

A man came over, a little small fry
As he approached me, I closed my eyes
I want to open them, I don't if I can
Because I'm so afraid he will kick the tin can