With balaclava on my head,

It’s time to start the heist.

I burst in causing waves of dread,

Like a weaponed poltergeist.

I stuff the money in my bag,

Then swiftly I escape,

Leaving behind no trace nor tag,

Into the cityscape.

As I leave, I pull out my phone,

And report the crime to police.

I leave no name, just dial tone,

A keeper of the peace.

Months pass by as I lay low,

Then I receive a letter.

Jury duty - I must go,

Or face time in the fetter.

I take my seat within the court,

And as I listen to the case,

My heart races - breathing short,

Blood rushes to my face.

The wrong man sits in shackle,

Waiting for his fate,

The other jurors cackle,

He’s guilty - let’s not wait.

We put no name upon our vote,

Then all twelve get read out.

Unanimous - the same word each note,

“He’s guilty”, foreman shouts.

Six more months pass by me,

I stand outside her house.

A grieving wife with baby,

Struggling with no spouse.

I put the bag upon the step,

Then quickly rap the door.

I leave the scene with quite some pep,

She will know me nevermore.