It all came to an end last Sunday in Santa Fe.
The love of my life was violently taken away.
A mugger shot my wife even though she gave him her purse.
She was rushed to the hospital but things got even worse.
The doctors couldn't save her even though they tried.
While she was on the operating table, she died.
She was carrying my baby and that makes it more sad.
I'm no longer a husband and I will not be a dad.
Because of that bastard, two lives have came to an end.
My wife wasn't just my lover, she was also my best friend.
Now that she's gone, my future doesn't look very bright.
When the cops find that man, I hope they shoot him on sight.
She died even though I went to the Chapel to pray.
My life became worthless last Sunday in Santa Fe.
(This is a fictional poem.)