Not A Good Sign Poem by Ima Ryma

Things were pretty much all the same,
Eat, sleep and other body stuff.
But then, this here big bad truck came,
Loaded me and hauled my fat duff,
Along with others. No one knew
Where we was a headin' or why.
When the truck stopped, we got a clue.
A McDonalds sign caught my eye.
I led the charge out the truck door,
Down the street in a mad stampede.
Rounded up, on the truck once more.
'Moo'icide to jump at this speed.

The future sure don't look no fun.
I bet I end up on a bun.