He got the jackpot and thought he had the whole plot,
The pot got diminished; he had hit a jack's spot,
Life was hot, but too short.
A gun was the solution; he grabbed it and took a shot!
He made himself a barbeque; an extreme blood clot.
Stains indelible; no further paint blot.
Deluge of tears that deluded the family lot.
Without the Jack there was no living pot;
Hopelessness and no resort; malnutrition struck like body shots.
The whole family ended on the Jack's spot.
I wish he had used the jackpot to make himself Jack Hot.
Horror! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem