Her Slave Poem by Anna Ballard
Her Slave
Breathing stops,
Heartbeat faults,
Eyes glaze,
Skin chills.
Nothing matters anymore,
Troubles long since gone.
Except for the maggots,
That eat you to the bone.
Red roses,
Yellow daisies,
and white callalilies
Cover your grave.
Family weeps,
Friends grieve,
Children wonder
Why death claimed you her slave.
eerie and Poe like in dark intensity actually quite nice and deep...reflective poem... does justice ot the subject :) be happy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:18:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
bcoz death is certain. i liked your poem.