Posted in Poetry

Usual Things

His hands locked her.
She was gasping.
His lips kissed her again.
She was shaking.

He groped her.
She scratched him.
He pushed himself in.
She screamed a lot
And his friends
Covered her face.

One by one
They all tasted a virgin.
Yummy like a pizza
And superb than anything.

Blood was everywhere.
Her stare was fixed to sky.
They disposed the body
And they were high.

Next morning’s headline was,
“A 12 years old was raped again.”
Brushing away these usual things,
Over a cup of coffee;
The society prefers to move on
To the page three.

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