(Trying to turn a crime fiction novel into poetry)

I was fitted up royal for a crime that I didn't do,
what kind of dystopian Hell am I living through?
I never took the chance, but here's my story I'm givin' you,
and just like the rest you'll probably think that I'm kiddin' you..
Six years locked up 'cause the system claimed I did the crime,
six years locked up for murder so I did the time.
And speaking of time they've been killing mine,
Six long years.. Time? I've been filling mine.
Plotting my revenge, oh I've been chilling fine,
reliving all their false revelations, now I'm spilling mine..
The fact is I was fitted up,
I was drunk as fuck and I just had to sick it up.
Yet they claim I met a woman, and tried to kick a fuss,
because she said no, I couldn't hit it up..
So that sick, the forensics team went to pick it up,
they just stuck two and two together, with their bit of luck.
Like old school Nintendo they tried to hit a duck,
and I was never on my game, or in control, my batteries missing, fuck!

© Ashley (urb4npo3t)