That hourglass, lay shattered, in her
The one, she chased, in her, lost pursuit
Entrapped, in her, fleshly disaster
Sinned to death, a passion’s, prostitute!

How much, more meat, she craved, to poise
The sex-appeal, of her, sin-sanctums
The one, who sold, her Cupid-toys
In brothels, of, feminist dualism!

Who made her, an object, of her sin
Not mankind, though, womankind’s narcissism
A cipher’s, worth more, than a, woman’s chagrin
Who sees beauty, from her, body’s prism!

Not worth, my thought, but a satire
Our ethnic, intellectual, paralysis
That seeks, beauty, in desire
In Mirage, Of, SILICONE Oasis!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra