Dead, dead, dead
Stone cold dead, sans
Warmth or breath
Lies my love for you...
Murdered by the jealousy
And hatred you bore
For those who mothered
Blood of my blood
Flesh of my flesh...
No Phoenix is love
To resurrect from ashes.
Once dead
To dust it turns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No Phoenix is love To resurrect from ashes. Once dead To dust it turns. Loved your ink. Invite you to read my Dead stone. Thanks for share.10