He helped himself to attitude
And he fed it in his sleep
He hooned the highways of complacency
Prowled the back roads of deceit
He took his friends for granted
And his lovers for a ride
He took his family for their love
It did wonders for his pride
Now he’s contrite, reassessing
Learning how the reed can bend
Scratching sores of self obsession
Bound to fester in the end
So here’s a cure to shake his heart
May joy for you be adroitly wrought
Thoughts for your peace be his constant thought
And thoughts for himself be an afterthought
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem