Who Can, Who Can...? Poem by indira babbellapati

By evening
The town morphs
Into a man with his
Passion let loose
Indiscriminate passion
Flowing as canals
That knew not rhythm
Into every possible corner Men possessed passed off as
As men of untainted virtue;
They ran amuck with their
Raw passion oozing at their
Undeserving groins looking
Out for innocent vagina,
Tender breasts and silken skin
As animals on prowl
Every corner down a dark
Street end is their haven
Wooing innocent school girls
Who called them uncles
Beaming indulgent smiles
Flashing goodies in their hands
Poor girls returned homes
With faces flushed and
Blouses crumpled in the hands
Of obnoxious species
How pathetic
How deplorable
How nauseous
Who can stop this every day atrocity?