My wife and I both worked in a video game store.
They closed and we're not working there anymore.
They closed their doors because of this damn Coronavirus.
We're unemployed and no other businesses are willing to hire us.
We got our twelve hundred bucks from the Government but we had to pay a hospital bill.
We're in a sinking boat and it's going down fast, I wish that the Coronavirus wasn't real.
Our families and friends can't help us and we need cash.
I'm so desperate that I'm about to do something that's rash.
I need money because I'm out of a job.
I'm in a liquor store that I intend to rob.
I just pulled my gun on the owner and he has grabbed his gun as well.
He just shot me in the chest and in a moment, I'll be sent straight to Hell.
My wife will get my life insurance money because I'm going to cease to live.
Please talk to my wife on my behalf, please beg her to forgive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem