Some people seem to get what they deserve,
And I for one appear to suffer so,
For I was born with caution and reserve,
Values now which no one wants to know.
Some people think that life is all a game,
To play as children play, without a second thought,
Thinking they are centred in the universal frame,
Accepting all life's offerings, owing as it ought.
Others such as I are cut from different cloth,
And see the world as one that doesn't know
Or care about each individual moth,
Which circles round its light's hypnotic glow.
Perhaps by doing so one has made a sacrifice,
Of pleasures as they come and go, quite unsatisfied,
And so I have to think of it as life's unhappy price,
For one's character to grow while desire be denied.
CBB Aug 2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem