Wait... Another Poem?

My fist is clenched
The woodland lies ahead,
I must build a night shelter
Or have zombies eat my head,

I have a wooden pick
But I doubt its mining powers,
At this pathetic rate
Io ll be here for bloody hours,

The wood was too tough
So my house is made of mud,
I stand back from my creation
My home looks like crud,

My neighbour has Redstone
They have gold and diamond too,
Io ll steal it when they leave
Io m no part of their crew,

Why couldno t they cooperate
Now theyo re all dead,
At least I have a diamond pickaxe
Embedded in this guyo s head,

My crafting table is broken
I tried to make a door,
Instead I got a unicycle
I cant take it any more,

An attempt to slay a pig
It didno t go too well,
Its brain is fully exposed
Io m surely going to hell,

Whato s that hissing sound?
Seems Io m all out of luck,
Ito s a large, green creeper
Ito s flashingo ¦ Holyo ¦