With Trifles Content, Themselves They Amuse

With trifles content, themselves they amuse,

Their precious time see how they misuse,

Not caring to know the purpose more high

To spend their life here for before they die.

The glitter and din, oh the frivolity sheer,

As if life’s just some sort of pastime mere.

If a word of guidance to them you may say,

They’ll stoutly claim to be on the right way.

They might even tell you not to interfere,

And your wise counsel may refuse to hear.

So, let them do just as they might wish,

Each their own path must find and cherish.

If they waste this life, it’s what they choose,

Why should you your peace of mind lose?

Each to their own, as is so very well said,

To try to guide them why break your head?