Spiritually with me, subjectively
wicked cruel, mean can they be.
Such is goody two shoes, would
chow me off to friends, it blushes.
They know it is shy, much tremble
you lay me in sleep, flush in hand.
I do not know, from whence came
the crown, burgle it not in, to shame.
a Queen knows, her feet are in trust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.