Sex Worker's Cry Poem by priyendra vikram singh

Placing my life on a bet
I lay on a motel bed
With heart pounding
And long loud emotional howling
That screams at the virgin inside me.
All throughout the act
I remain ‘inert'
While that pervert!
Gags and squirt.

Forcibly moaning
So as to earn a loaf of bread
for a family whose chieftain is dead.
This is the reason why I lay on bed.

Despite all this they make me culpable
Knowing very well with this I am feeding incapables.
If this is the law then answer me whether in true sense it is justifiable?

My only cry is my body has been taken for far too long
Does anybody want to take my heart along?