She mixes the potion like a merry-go-round,
Adding multiple herbs to enlighten,
Everyone hates her without a sound,
But to her, life is brightened,
She asks the Mother for some incite,
For she cant be blamed for family routine,
She is not bad, nor does she bite,
The hate causes a terrible pain in her spleen,
By the eternal grace of her heart,
The flame does not burn out,
Her soul is made out of several parts,
She wants acceptance without a doubt,
She is not capable of changing what she is,
All she can do is try to live in bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem