I love her, I hate her
She's wicked, divine
With and without
At the same time
She uses her body
To manipulate men
She uses her words
To make her amends
No wound has she wrought
No pain has she caused
She tries and she tries
But she doesn't have claws
But am I the better?
Am I not to blame?
I've caused her plenty
It gives me no shame
I lie and I steal
With no cause for grief
So slay me O Champion
'Tis a monster you see
Her pain is my weapon
My pleasure my crime
When will it be over?
All in good time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem