Questioned for his excellence
It becomes a reward
Of no use
Admired for her eccentricity
Her cursed flaws
Become her charm
She wasn’t perfect
But she was higher
Higher than the birds
Higher than the clouds
Higher—than any place
dreams could even try to reach
His jealousy
Grew over her
like ivy on a cast off brick
in the end
He’d sold his soul to the devil
For aptness
When all she did
was learn to love
Who she was
And who
She plainly wasn’t
she's black as the night
unpredictable
sure of her morals
he's clear as glass
you see right through
the cracks
of his so-called
white perfection
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem