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A poem reflecting many people's attitudes that prison in England is not much of a punishment due to the easy way of life. Certainly not like the jails in America, that's for sure.

Submitted:Feb 8, 2013    Reads: 60    Comments: 12    Likes: 11   


How super to sleep in a laundered sheet!

How wondrous to wake to a fry up!

Swanky hotels would be pressed to compete.

Thank God for my criminal makeup!


My cell's as swish a sumptuous suite.

My flat on the outside's horrendous.

They polish the flooring beneath my feet.

The perks of this sentence are endless.


Most of the days I play video games,

Or do courses to learn a new skill.

The Ritz and Savoy would be put to shame,

And it's all on the taxpayer's bill.


At weekends I chill, and follow the game.

(It's now shown in 3D for a thrill)

A life as a murderer, that's my aim,

For there's plenty of time left to kill.


A life without bills - A life without tax.

To reside behind bars is a breeze.

Though both of my neighbours are maniacs,

I'm protected by CCTV.


I lay in my pad, and listen to tracks

From my endless collection of discs,

Then fill up my face with sugary snacks

Before heading for exercise, brisk.


My membership's free to the local gym -

I run, and lift weights at my leisure.

I'm looking muscular, healthy and trim,

And fitness to me is a pleasure.


A life without bars is a life that sucks,

So let's commit crimes all together,

And head to a jail that's cushy, de luxe,

And live at her majesty's pleasure.


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