Upon her work table there is a box
wiith needles and thread and a rusty lock
Remembering the conversations they have had
the hurtful words that stung so bad
The broken heart and fractured mind
all those words had left behind
She starts to work so feverishly
upon her brand new masterpiece
Her fingers moving nimbly
the thread picked out so carefully
Oh the horrible words that have been said
so through his mouth she pulls her thread
She sews his mouth up nice and tight
remembering those dreadful nights
Forever silenced he shall be
Her masterpiece of broken dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem