It feels good to do it.
Passing judgement.
It becomes craved.
An appetizer before the entre.
Passing judgement.
Sour cream preferred than butter.
And done with lips to lick.
After dipping into the business of it.
Passing judgement.
Sitting back, relaxed.
Satisfied after doing this.
Only to discover,
One's taste for chicken...
Had been crow.
To have eaten.
Chewed.
And in public swallowed!
"Would you like more?
Or have you had enough?
Passing judgement! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem