Standing before all of those that have done her wrong
she screams to the writhing throng
'to you that have not thought me strong'
She tears into her chest
pulling out her still beating heart
she shows it to the assembled guest
'This was to much trouble from the start'
Tossed upon the funeral pyre
her once beating heart slows and begins to smolder
and as the flames climb higher and higher
and she grows bolder
' Is this what you want, is this our desire'
tossed upon the funeral pyre
first goes one then the another
their bodies threaten to smother
with each body tossed her laughter comes
and as each succumbs
she feels her burden lift and she becomes
FREE
8/23/07
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem