Not too many will admit,
Mistakes to make...
Repeatedly done to do.
Is a conscious love.
A choice to choose.
They refuse to give up.
As if to crave and can not get enough.
Not too many will live each day,
Praying for rain to come their way.
And then with this done,
To hope the rain remains unchanged.
Without the rays of Sun to come.
There are not too many wishing,
Never for them to have changes done.
Or wish not to experience happiness.
To have it felt or hope it not come.
People get what they ask for.
And those that do don't want to keep it.
They rather have it tossed and leave it.
Believing they can do,
Whatever they choose and whenever they please.
People get what they ask for.
And when that time comes,
Their minds might have changed.
Yet...
That doing to do,
Makes no difference to what comes...
To deliver their wishes with this done.
People get what they ask for.
Whether to like or not.
To have it dropped at their door.
Or attempt to ignore,
The nonstop of a knock.
People will get what they ask for.
And with their name on it.
To refuse or dismiss,
A making of their commitment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem