A Mother From Brothel Poem by Somendra Gaur

The dark circles beneath her eyes tell the story of her unslept nights.
Her hands smell of cigarettes,
Her eyes are red.
She covers her wrinkles,
Her beauty looks pseudo.
Her body looks tired.
But men still ogling at her like vultures,
Every morning she gets up facing a new ceiling.
Her body and self respect is slaughtered on different beds,
She wants to give up,
But down the alley she has two daughters crying for food.
She might be sex worker, Slut or a whore for many
But
She is MOTHER.