As I sit behind the cold, limiting bars of my prison cell,

My consciousness grows by the second,

Reliving a past scandal as if it were a dear memory to me,

My satisfying melancholy.

In the darkness of the night,

I entered cautiously,

Sliding the bedroom window open ever so slightly, 

My disheveled cloak sodden with rainwater.

A loud creak of the old floorboards accompanied me

As I completed what I came to finish off,

And the loud crack of thunder in the raging storm outside

Was my call of triumph and success.

It struck midnight,

And somewhere in the distance,

I could hear the tolling of an old church bell.

The uncanny howling of the fierce wind

Blew a massive branch from the towering old oak tree

Through the window panel and shattered the frail glass,

Which scattered all over the wooden floorboards.

I bent down and picked up the collapsed branch,

And with all my might, plunged it into the ground like a victorious flag, 

Splintering the wooden flooring 

And causing the walls to rumble and groan.

I thrust aside the ripped curtains

As I climbed back out the window.

Multicolored lights surrounded the house,

But I had nothing to hide.

The distinct sound of sirens and inaudible talking

Slowly faded away

As though it was all just a beautiful dream.

I keeled over reluctantly

But blissfully,

Knowing that I had flawlessly finished what had already started,

And that there was no turning back.

Officers took me away from my languishing trophy in the house,

And put me behind a row of opposing metal bars,

Leaving me to dwell on my satisfaction of the night

And pity on those who do not understand.