Apple pie
Some killers have bomb, guns
Some drones, or sword, knife
Some use tricks, mischief, lies.
But you are, you lady, special.
You were made to comfort
To be Mom, sister, wife…
To attract; giving love.
But you changed.
Now you are poison
Hidden in apple pie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem