Pretty swan crystals on her dainty head
Knocks out every soul that passes her by
From within, she lusts for all their stares
But she’s never satisfied, she wants more
The referee tells her to breathe
But she keeps on going
When she’s out of breath and tries
She’d cry the prettiest tears and woes
And everyone would rush to her
To aid her elegance, cradling her temper
I’ve my large mug of steaming tea
Can I please it spill it upon you
As if an ocean dropped from the sky
To swallow you in massive burns?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very humourous, I liked that she begs permission to do her high temp deed