Waste never just happens.
Poor planning causes waste to happen.
Suppose I need some things but I fail to purpose intently on just those things in a place of many things.
Impulse tells me that I need everything.
So I get and grab everything that comes to mind.
Upon arrival to my destination I find, nothing.
That is nothing that prompted my visit to the place of many things.
Talk about disappointing.
Now I have nothing to get the things that I really needed.
What a waste indeed as impulse capitalized on my failure to plan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem