I see one young lady
in two affiliated situations
one lives in luxury
the later lives in penury
both saying ‘this is not me’

The first situation sets in fancy
she desires too many delicacy
only she lacks some decadency
rich yet full of jealousy.

In her bones carves
the unhealthy wants
of a woman with dark plots
In her hands are her sister’s blood

Run child, gone wild
innocent smile, is now defiled
Strings on her hands,
Uncontrollable snaps
awful laments, bags of regrets.

Consummate by iniquity,
She can hear the crows symphony
To young, too dumb
‘ What did I become ‘

She admits her complexity
Yet she cries wearingly
By all means this is her reality
only she cries begging saying--
‘This is not me’

The second situation sets in poverty
Her priority is to survive scarcity
Losing her own dignity
She is selling her own body.

In her bones carves
The embittered scars
Of a woman with vengeful heart
In her hands are her customers parts.

Used here, used there
Her exquisite eyes, is living in despair
Strings on her hands
Uncontrollable snaps
Repetitive lust, covered by disgust.

Consummate by immorality
She can hear the cries of dead babies
Was young, still dumb
‘What did I become’

She admits her villainy
Done by uncontrollable insanity
By all means this is her reality
only she cries begging saying--
‘This is not me’.
© Geli