Brothel Is Her Temple? ? Poem by Anita Sharma

she is Desired by many but visited by few
and loved by no one
she hung her heads in grief
many times tried to Escape,
The slaps of flesh over and again,
she hates every minute, every tick,
This endless pain makes her sick,
her candle-light visions
Understood by misunderstood
The women wait and weep,
Painted glass windows,
coloured dreams and fancies
kniving miseries.
her forbidden desires
she dreamed of a man that won't ever come,
she bleeds from wounds so deep within
fails to dim the moving shadows
she was told brothel is her temple
Escape, Escape, Escape,
Do you wanna be there?
He's scared
Make a choice
Are they changed?
Nope
Still the same
She lured him to her brothel, ? ?
she was pushed there! !
A stab in her heart and take it
Sqeeze as hard as you can
But she won't feel nothing, nothing
It awakes a man at his lust
And calms him down
Oh, the power of wealth
stop stop this dirty game
Empty inside and dying within
please fill herVoid
she is a human
With "love" and a quenched thirst
Somewhere bloomed a new leaf
without any grief