Whispers at the coliseum.
Her shield carries the souls of many
Blood run down her shins
The heroine returns from battle glory in wounds
As the trophy of her empress she walks the coliseum
The whispers from ear to ears are now broadcasted in the
Oval shape coffin that was once her throne.
Whispers:
I heard she is infertile. Hmm
My uncle told me she was raised by animals.. Animals?
The priestess that baptized him proclaims she has no soul. Oh my Women cannot fight...
She is secretly a man... look at her crotch
Zealously but jealously the whispers that once gave her life
Are one which now drown her in the blood she took from
Enemies and friends alike.
What she believed once to be her celebration is now her
Crucification. The empress orders her execution to pave way for a more youthful thirst for blood.
Beware of whispers at the coliseum and remember that
'All glory is fleeting'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem