Hate can be a kind of pretending for love.
It reaches some maximum angle.
Affection can drive the rumormonger into poor sizes of dispute.
The guy's feelings become extreme or inconsistent.
Events get the hand for manipulation.
Because of this, pretending isn't always a good system of expression.
Love doesn't give us something fake or self-defeating.
Obstacles in the way reveal a sight under management for trouble.
Games are abused for control, sense, and the looks of things.
Where does emotion size up in feeling?
Maximization isn't practical let alone safe.
Plenty of fish in the sea nourish on destructive bait.
Nobody really owns the public.
Individuals get sensitive about ownership and property rights- it's life at work.
Vision transforms, then it's a beast from weak transformation.
Fault is only seen by involvement.
Dreams eventually flow into a channel for pushing against without reason.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem