At the dead of the clouded hungry night,

Patient for hours till the dream of hope arose.

Curdled in nature, bathing in the confused tender breeze,

A glance of the self-destruction of this lady’s prime.

 

Standing by the pole, waiting hungrily:

Exhibiting her sides, colour, shape and accessories,

Standing by her spot singing infatuation trail as bait:

To express her inner beast that lies on the taste of her worth.

 

“Hello, how much for a night?” asked a stranger who drove by.

“It is Five thousand!” she convinced the man as she smiles.

 

She laid her price at the feet of shame and pain,

She gave in to the arm of a condemned entity, the midnight sun.

A woman drained off in pride, hope and courage she choose to be,

Wasted today, emptied for the morrow that is yet to come.

 

At the time age kill the flesh and bone,

She remained beautified in the trash, like the tasteless salt.

At last she asked, “How could I have survived all the hurdles?”

A real woman would reply her, “The very way I did for myself, not for others?”

 

 

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