As each day passes,
I try to better do...
What was done I believed,
Would leave the effort made...
A pleasing attempt to satisfy.
But as each day passes,
To realize that critic...
Inside of me can not sit.
Without reminding me,
What I tried to do better yesterday...
Is today nothing more,
Than a leftover belief...
Mediocrity to achieve is my best.
And...
As each day passes,
Whenever I may be asked by someone...
How I feel about what's going on?
My first thought without thinking is to say,
"I'm not so sure.
You have any suggestions? "
To leave them to perceive,
I am being either cynical or sarcastic.
When I am sincerely hoping to hear,
Something positive.
But...
It could be in my response,
If I said another way...
My comments made,
Would be heard as my seeking advice.
And not criticism I am familiar with.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem