Sweet pretender to the throne
For whom each day is a passionate exercise
Pushes silence to extreme angles that are almost noise
I heard laughter and I did not come inside
Close mouthed tragic roll call of people who fly off the handle
Aired out gravel recourse
Practices a daily workout routine
Hibernates when liars go abroad
A darling egg counter committed to things they shouldn't have before they hatched
Earned a bled out attraction, pale and lithesome
I want to know what it looks like during the day
The work nymphs take pride in the hours they keep
And no one will be allowed in who doesn't look alive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem