boat stave ribs and thin jutting hips
a cacophony of defiled desire
heaving through pretty pale blooming lips
she writhes alone on the funeral pyre
a skeletal frame and a quivering chest
penetrate confines of lackluster skin
grey macabre clouds foreshadow her rest
as she waits for the imminent to begin
a prayer is muttered and a match is struck
this execution painstakingly planned
delicate eyelids flutter and she ceases to buck
effaced by society's palsied hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
rhyme, rhythm good imagery nice poem