Staring at her, as if she is the devil,
But she is nothing compared to the real evil.
The evil, which drowned her,
In the sea of a bloody massacre.
Looking up for some light,
She understood it was her fight.
But she whimpers all the time,
Trying to hide the pain, as if it were a crime.
Years pass,
And only her loneliness lasts.
The ache starts to spread,
Turning the vision bloody red.
On the verge of breaking down,
She looks up with a frown.
An entity keeps calling her,
For something mere.
It was death's hand, that she accepted,
To escape from a world where nothing is oriented.
Finally she could rest,
Sleep for eternity without her protective vest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A green shoot sprouting in the blood-stained desert where violence and death just spread their net.. haunting write. Top score for the poem