Self-Conviction Poem by Ima Ryma

Robbing a bank is lots of stress;
And here's a perfect case in point.
I thought the job was a success -
Hour later I'm in the joint.
At first I wondered what went wrong.
In and out with the mask I wore,
The stick-up went smoothly along,
'Til the cops came to my front door.
As I was booked into a cell.
I didn't have any I.D.
The cops just laughed and said, 'Do tell? '
And then the truth hit hard on me.

The cops sure have dumb me to thank.
I dropped my wallet in the bank.