I can be foolish.
And can do foolish things
Knowing what I do is a bit foolish.
It is a luxury sometimes I use.
But there has been times,
My foolishness has been mistaken...
For stupidity and ignorance.
And my portrayal of foolishness,
When I decide it should end...
Becomes interpreted,
As someone who has lost much sense.
And I must admit,
At times when that occurs...
I'm not trying to find it either.
Or senselessly defend,
Whatever it is that offends...
That I may say and is heard.
That is why I don't encourage,
Being tested at my expense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem