The woman is not you standing next to me at the altar.
Maybe in your dreams, you poor little girl.
I will do what I must to protect who I am.
You already loss when that line you crossed.
Can you feel that heart that has stop beating.
I slit my wrist before I let you touch me with your vile hands.
Your love is a manipulation you tried force on me.
Take no womens hand who you can not trust.
Desires do not overwhelm even as they do you.
Lust is all you have, in your cold emotionless hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem