Today the poet is in a slightly artistic mood

"The poet got tired of poverty and became a bandit

He went to rob the bank and said

What is said... What is in destiny will be found

Hands up... No one will move from their place

Take some of your dreams out of my eyes

Put whatever you have in this bag

I try hard to forget your memories

Be careful not to call the police

The courtyard of your heart is desolate

Hurry outside my friend is standing worried"

😅😅😆😅😅