Providing strokes,
Soothingly, to announce credit or to buoy another,
While also making progress noise on a keyboard
Although much gives him pause,
Putting everything on hold,
Generously using the space bar,
Leveling any jitters fast approaching
No compliments when the effort is forced,
Pardon those interceptions,
Sloppy work on the days he becomes a bundle of frayed nerves
His type? Feeling guilty,
Self-consciously changing the style and losing the plot
Give him a hand, then later he could use a genuine pat on the back
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No compliments when the effort is forced, /// sometimes some overloads praising hack the creativity of progressive life!