In my dreams again, avoid her,
just a girl then. Walked on egg shells.
She is easily disturbed,
but I love her, drawn to her.
In this moment she is gentle,
angelic, precious in the dim light
of a fading bulb, reaches out to me
with kindness, though I know she
Bites like a beast, slithers, strikes.
She is not human.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem