The sun still shines through her golden hair,
But the fire has gone from her eyes-
She's his prisoner now, in his Florida lair,
And each day, a bit more of her dies.
Control-at first she fought it,
Determining in her heart she would not go.
In the end, she was too tired to fight anymore,
Not her husband, not her friend, but her foe.
The velvet chains seemed so relaxing-
She didn't feel their cords become chains-
To make decisions on her own was too taxing,
Almost as though she gave over her brains-
And let his decisions rule her-
And let his ways prevail.
Now she's so used to his way of life,
She's lost her backbone, her escape would fail.
She's become a clone, another person,
A Siamese twin, if you will-
And though I hardly recognize my friend,
My love for her remains the same, still-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem