And with men she pulled them in
Letting them drown in her sin
A deep sadness in her bones
She lived in them like they were
Home.
Everything touched turned to dust
But she loved the ones who spoke corrupt
Foreign languages on their tongue
What she wove could not be undone
She would poison them all the same
And in the soil she would remain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Time to give a title to the poem. Call it the Crow. Ho ho!