Helas The Little Red Riding Hood Was Eaten! Poem by Chryssa Velissariou

I hope, dear fellow poets, one day
I'll write gently and serene...
Because this cry of mine,
Is not at all, like your poetry...
It is just transfusion of emotions …
It's blood and soul directly taken from their source.
When shall I be able to combine
The passion with calm logic?
Or to embroider sensually to reason
The fascinating web of lust?
I lived, I am living with a knife in the back.
With a lover killer and noose.
In a place where only the corks are floating...
In a homeland where they are
Sinking diamonds in the mud
and show off them only to sell them.
I wonder, dear fellow poets, could I sculpt
less indelicate words?
How to convert the rage in peace?
Who once had been holding my hand, instead of pushing me down?
Who did involved with me without charging to me the fact of the error?
Who ever stayed with me just because he needed just Me?
I am a sea medusa, which used to be a delicate sea anemone.
The mutation of a victim with withered petals in a perpetrator.
No, unfortunately I can no longer
dangle anchored to the corals!
Transparent I'm carried away amid the waves.
I'm here to remind you that you are not alone;
I invite you to your small, earthy,
Temporary but secure paradise,
Where and for as long you occasionally will enjoy.
Always in fear of the wolf...
Ah, finally... I was not fooled:
The Little Red Riding Hood was devoured by him.
Maybe better you to see your sudden future end,
So that you reward festively with passion every start.