Love has a habit
Of making one look like a fool
People have a way
Of being so very cruel
They will play or use you
For their own personal gain
They look at life
As nothing more then just a game
But sooner or later
The law of averages say
That what goes around
Will surely come their way
9-1-18/RjH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem