From a class assignment- on your slip of paper there is an inanimate object. Personify it.

It was a night much like a night like any other you've seen before
When I was awoken from my slumber by a crash outside my door
My husband said, "I'll get it," and stumbled into the hall
'Cause the light had gone out and we hadn't yet called our handyman named Paul

Now my husband, he was a New York City cop and we lived on the 31st floor
But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw behind that door
"He was a desperate homeless maniac," the police would tell me later.
"And he walked up thirty-one fire escapes, neglecting the elevator."

The man pulled out a greasy knife and punctured my husband's chest
Then climbed back out from whence he came, impeding his arrest
As I lay there crying and he lay there dying, us and our sticky, sweaty selves
I lifted my chin as a presence was known, over, next to my exotic spice shelves

It was a man dressed in robes from his head to his feet and a peculiar glint in his eye
Round his neck lay a chain of some sort with some numbers- he spoke with a vocal fry
"Don't fear, my dear, I bring no harm, my only wish is to count."
The look on his face in accordance to mine was surprisingly tantamount

"You've never known me before, but I suppose now is the date
I've decided to reveal myself to you now- I am the feared Crime Rate
As you sleep in your house you may know if you're safe when I am incredibly low
But if I am high you will give a big sigh, into alleys you dare not go."

"So you see I live a life of melancholy and depression
There's nothing I can do right now to prevent this great recession
If I've said this before, I apologize, but I am but a recorder
It's up to the people of the U.S.A if they want to restore order."

He offered me a sad sort of boyish smile, as well as a parting nod
I said, "it's the stuff like this that happens to me that makes me think there's no God."
His reply gave a tone as sharp as a knife-
"Do you really know, Miss Anna Pasquale, what is truly the price of a life?"

Abandoning what sort of composure he had, he reached into the depths of his robe
Pulling out a small blinking satellite, with light scattering from it like a strobe
With a movement like a toast, this ghost poked the air, rose his hand to my throat
"W-what is the cause of your anger?" I choked out, barely giving him time to gloat

"I get random mood swings. I guess it's the stress of the job." Without hesitation I delivered a round kick
Another second- I performed an eye jab, I thought I was extra slick

I flew down the stairs and out into the street, never stopping till I reached population
Doused in my husband's blood, looking like a cadaver, I caught the great eye of the nation
I explained what happened- no one believed me
Now I sit here in my straightjacket in an asylum- look it up, it's called Shady Tree