201 Dead Stars For Erde's Diadem Poem by Sebastian Priotese
201 Dead Stars For Erde's Diadem
Dear, livid Erde,
they've made you a diadem
with artillery and uric acid-saturated
wings. It was hollow and bland,
of a blue so immaculate
that it SCREAMED to be spattered.
201 stars have died to make it nicer,
burning like orchid buds drowned in
luciferine - 201 librarian stars
have fallen with tomes in their hands,
fired for teaching the knowledge of the
owls to the crows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 10:42:57 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
