In her wake the trail of broken hearts burn.
Shooting fire and ice all about her.
Though she is blind..she sees. The bowing of the Evergreens.
The farewell of the morning dews. The tears of the Ravens.
She will be missed.
Cheeks staind with bloody tears. She is driven too far from home.
Called upon by an ever changing lust.
One of which consumes the very fiber of her soul...pulling...luering..calling.
Pain so hot, pain so pure it traps her. Chasing away any thoughts of freedom. Stripping her of comfort.
Ice so cold it scorches whatever it may touch.
Her heart once pure is now tainted with the filth of her blindness.
Though she sees
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Um-hum, burning bridges, Briana, and so thoroughly. Well done. Read mine -The bloom of Youth - Adeline