Bullet through a broken heart,
tears slip down his face
Betrayal as a form of art,
Blood soaked clothes of lace
She watched him fall, took no part,
Her footsteps left no trace
Stole his heart, ripped it apart,
She kept it just in case.
She left him there to fix his guard,
before she swug her mace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem