Covered in bandages,
A proper mummy,
bloodied and scarred.
Your wounds were deep,
embalmed and hidden away,
inside your golden pharaoh tomb.
No one saw you,
locking away your heartache,
you were a skin lamp of Ra,
but fake smiles only go so far.
You left one day,
and we buried your Ankh,
wishing you luck,
and seeing off your Nile funeral party.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem