You will come, dressed to kill.
You will sneer, I will reel.
It will just make me feel
an invisible woman.
Your eyes're bleak wintry steel
that strip off my free will.
It seems, the secret's revealed -
but, there, you're already moving.
You take more interest in meals
than in my puny ordeal.
I'm trying hard to appeal
to what little's still human.
It's not that big a deal.
You will jeer, I will heal.
Maybe I really am
an invisible woman.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem