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Poem

It’s nice to win a contest.
I know I, for one, have tried;
But I read about one recently
In which the winner died.

Some folks think if something’s risky
That the glory’s more intense,
Which is why they may take chances
When a contest makes no sense…

Like the one on Broward County:
Eating roaches was its goal;
And the winner, thirty-two years old,
Thought he was on a roll.

He defeated all contenders
But he got no prize; instead
He collapsed and just like what he ate,
He ended up quite dead.

There’s a moral to this story:
Watch out for the things you eat
And determine if it’s worth it
When deciding to compete.

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