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Who Selected What It Was To Be Picked?
The one thing I dislike,
About those who say...
They don't have what they want.
Or have things their way!
When they always seem to be surrounded,
By what exists as they sit to complain about it!
These are my questions...
Who selected what it was to be picked?
And in the picking done...
How many were witnessed,
To be unconscious of this?
And no one wants to admit...
They chose with eyes opened,
The path selected and the consequences.
Unless that too was done,
With an overdoing of pretentiousness.
Many love in the doing but can't remember it.
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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