take what i say
with no promise
it will ever
come true
hope is an
infection
expect nothing
less than
an idle mind
what if
reality is a
distraction
and delaying
of gratification
is the real
procrastination
the only sin
is wasted time
i want to explore
each detour
feel each contour
get lost in
the subplot more
life is nothing
short of fiction
the fantasy that is
missing when
we solve for the x
such a
complex deflection
needs a master
of misdirection
written by Frank DeFulgentis
http: //www.facebook.com/pages/The-Poetry-of-Frank-DeFulgentis/217861311513? ref=ts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem