When a judging of a book by its cover,
Has been done...
The only one who benefits from this,
Is the one who continues,
To be thought as superficial.
With no depth that exists.
Or nothing to offer,
To those who perceive with beliefs...
What appears on the cover,
Has nothing inside to provide a release.
But always there is someone,
Who has learned from an experience to welcome.
With a taking of time to read between the lines.
And finding ways to maneuver around,
Those who are comforted...
By remaining socially illiterate.
To discover ruts that keep them stuck,
As a result of living a life to receive bad luck.
Wished upon themselves as kept interpreted,
Among others equally please to stay uninformed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem