Little Trite Poem by david gerardino
Little Trite
SELFHELPERS with house plants,
internal dialogues in a state of flux,
,
a little trite you yell,
a little trite it ends.
MUFFLED and blunt it hits the spot,
still your internal dialogues are in
a state of flux,
a little trite you yell,
a little trite it ends, and all the self
helpers turn the wolf, into a abstract
painting,
a little trite you yell,
a little trite it ends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 6:53:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
