Side swept, the little girl had no chance.
They had everything the sun dance
could provide.
Cold and in the dark, tied to a chair
and held surrounded by what
laughter could not feel.
She could not spin this distant everything.
Doctors had called her broken glass
that human nature could not sweep up.
She died there, picked last,
cold and indisposed where doctors
laid to rest her final chance.
Beautiful being to some other's eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem