Dear John

DEAR JOHN,

I'm dead. It’s just a matter of time.
I'm writing from Death Row to tell you of my crime.

I met a girl in a club one night:
We danced until three,
Then we fucked until daylight.
Sorry for the vulgarity,
But that's how it was, you see,
Just a fuck. She meant nothing to me.
I didn't even know her last name.

She brought some friends to the party;
Little buggers  called HIV.
I didn't know her name,
But I'm dead just the same.
The bitch has killed me, and doesn't even know
That because of her I'm on Death Row.

So what was my crime? Stupidity!
I was caught having sex without protection,
And I got the maximum penalty -
I was sentenced to death by lethal infection.

Everyone thinks, "It won't happen to me."
I thought that too but, as you can see,
I was wrong.

     So  Long,


Joe Average.