If I could twist the she she was, I'd twist her
I'd wind and grind and break her
Turn and churn and burn her.
She'd die and be reborn
But we wouldn't mourn
She'd be fresh and new
Light, human too.
Her own mind she'd control
Own her own soul.
To live as I had died,
Only just survived
Never real, never free, never me...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem