(This is a fictional poem about the torture of an innocent man.)
I spent many years in prison for being a pedophile but I was innocent.
The jury didn't believe me and San Quentin was where I was sent.
The guilty party was free to hurt innocent children and he wasn't caught.
The prisoners and guards treated me like garbage even though I was not.
I thought that prison would be the only hard part but sadly, I was wrong.
I have to move from place to place constantly, I can't stay in any place for very long.
People demand that I leave every time I find a new place to live.
Even though I'm innocent, people will never be able to forgive.
Men punch me and the ladies spit on me and slap my face.
Every single one of them should be put in his and her place.
I've cried countless times for being treated like a piece of trash.
I keep proclaiming my innocence but I continue to be bashed.
The guilty party got off scot-free, he didn't spend even one day in jail.
I have just six words for all of my accusers, "You can go straight to Hell!"