Leap Year Winner Poem by Ima Ryma

On ev'ry leap year date there'd be
In my village at 10 p.m.
A drawing for a lottery.
The losers then would bring mayhem
Upon the winner, him or her,
Chasing the winner through the streets,
The winner always caught for sure.
The winner then endured the beats
By the losers with sticks and stones,
Causing the winner's blood to drain,
All skin ripped off of broken bones,
Just bits and pieces would remain.

I watch the drawing being done.
This leap year winner - I'm the one.