I am no virgin, Yet I never made love

Torn and filthy is my midnight gown,

Which covers my bruises, from my tears tonight,
"You lost your honour", the society blames,
and I shiver here, of stained innocence, for his blind insight.

Had lust not ripped his conscience apart,

Had the fear of blood relations, made his bosom calm,
My village could have one day with wedding bells sang,
My father wouldn't have kept, from working at farm.

They have thrashed my wounds more,

And made me cry blood,
"It was your gown, less opaque, not his morals more",
They said when my arguments they heard.

In darkness of shame, in shade of shallow faith,

They save me now, only to wait for death,
But in light of truth, and reasons for mercy,
I will with sun, rise...and speak with longer breath,
"I am no virgin, Yet I never made love",
It was not my character, but his hormones that had drove.

-Sumeet Sahoo