I didn't want to pay for some mushrooms so I picked some in the woods.
They turned out to be poisonous even though I thought they were good.
I'm in big trouble, I'm knocking on Death's Door.
In less than an hour I won't be alive anymore.
I'm really scared because I don't want to die.
I'm hugging my wife and kids as I say goodbye.
I was wrong when I thought that those mushrooms were edible.
Never try to guess which mushrooms are good unless you're a professional.
(Even though this is a fictional poem, many people do die because they pick the wrong kind of mushrooms to eat.)
