When in the middle of the night,
you are upright in your bed,
over something that you may have said,
... forgive yourself a little.
You know you didn't mean it,
when you said he was a piece of - - -
... like I said,
you didn't mean it.
Everyone gets angry,
and it is best to hold your temper,
perhaps, it's best that we remember,
that perfection is a burden,
and it's a blessing,
that so few of you must carry it!
Hmmm...Intriguing! ! But are you absolutely certain that it wasn't truly meant? ? ? ? Hugs, Dee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Humour in fine style all the while dealing out the truth. Very nicely done thanks.