Was it, that night, that changed, it all
Or my, estrangement, with its, aftermath
Why my, graffiti fades, in the, world’s recall
“There wasn’t, any blood, in that ‘bloodbath’”!
Before, seeks evidence, blind jurisprudence
Who’ll name, blame, shame, the messiah
“What, you call, ‘pretense’, is serious, economic sense”
Am I pawn, or a, political pariah!
In an age, where, sex trades, like bitcoins
Many dues, paid off, in bills, of skin
Men measure, women, by their, tenderloins
No ‘saints’, are left, who speak, of sin!
Who hosts, the Sheikhs, in Buckingham
A spent colonist, with a, broken spleen
Is a, woman too, in a, fossilized sham
Was I, Not Raped? Do Ask, My Queen!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra