Schemes of wicked women.
Forestalling their fate.
Capricious their vision.
Should we consider
this essence
of shrouded toxicity?
She who doesn't stand
to the wealth of other souls.
Skin marred.
The traces of vices apparent.
Sullen, begotten tyrants
to inflamed temperament.
Beckoning,
to temptations bred
within many.
Are we indentured.
Or still in the midst
of our revelrous passion?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem