Some are not worthy,
though they refract it on you,
with a wave you get pulled
toward a feeling of self rue.
They act like the sultan,
on the thrown, gilt in gold,
but your mother said say nothing,
if nothing nice, and so you hold
your breath,
your anger,
your ultimate attack.
but someday when they're
broken,
you'll get your comeback.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hmph! I quite agree. What goes around comes around. Do as you would be done by etc etc. We all pay the price for the things we do...Good OR Bad. Well written Hugs Jan