If what is done is not loved,
With it done to do...
Perhaps,
If it was less taxed...
And attached with two weeks,
Of added vacation.
Higher pay.
And accepted excuses made,
Love would then become...
An alibi used,
For showing up late.
Hoping what is loved,
Is understood to be appreciated
But in the showing of it,
Had been more expressed...
When expectations,
Were not anticipated...
To have them addressed.
'You were once performing,
At your best.
To complain about,
Not being noticed.
Since you've been both noticed,
And compensated...
To validate an appreciation,
Shown to receive.
'Now' what it is you do,
Is prove you can annoy.
As if to enjoy being obnoxious.
To perceive the expense of it,
Is worth the price to pay.
Can you say...
'How stupid,
Can a fool choose to be! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem