It seems today the moderns say marriage is for the birds.
For middle-aged, the suited few, desktop computer nerds.
Their passions endless rations are something to enjoy.
Bedmates come and go, just one more gorgeous toy.
Commitment relates to institutions for the mental or the bad.
No thought of shared commitment like their parents had.
Children born; perhaps result of one more can’t wait liaison.
Just another night of bliss, one more fast-fix occasion.
Most don't stay, just run away; live off friends and state,
Uncaring of their partners regardless of their fate.
Like a library full of books; there’s always plenty more,
Getting married what a joke, why should I and what for?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem