There once was a boy named Jimmy Adams,
And he was bullied at school.
He tried everything in his mind he could fathom,
But was still considered ‘uncool'.
He weeped and he wooed
All through the night, wondering why? Just why?
What did he do that made him so low,
It made him want to die.
So little Jimmy Adams concocted a plan
A plan to end the pain.
He would go to school, and in his hand,
Would be a tool used in vain.
He'd end the fight between him and life
As he marched into the classroom.
He'd open fire at everyone in sight,
It'd all be over soon.
So Jimmy Adams went into the garage,
His father's rifle he found there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem