Let the insanity in

Her body is naked, but so is her soul sometimes.

A black spot in the garden of disguised roses,
giving a part of her spirit to strangers,
a debt that shall never be repaid.
it's not something she chooses.
From the first blow of wind to the last snowflake, her skin a bewitching land of virtue that has no boundaries nor limits.
But can paper ever be a forfeit for love?
A blessed feather that falls on you from above?
The aroma of her brown hair will rush to your treacherous mind and find itself a room.
Her breasts at divine place of worship. Secret folds of warm flash,
a temptation to every inhibition you've ever known.
Would you hold yourself or let the insanity in?
Would you let the Luminous mist cover every mark of your existence?
And then you can't breathe, does holding your breath send chills down your spine?
So hold your breath, don't breathe and find yourself struggling from within.
Would you dare to smile or put on an act?
This is what it's like to be her.
But why does she let this happen to herself? Her misery a Prisoner to her will.
kept in a box someone else created
She is holding her breath exasperated.
She goes from Street to Street,
her dress barely covering her behind.
The small Mirrors in her dress can light up your eyes, casting the shadow behind. Shadow on her.
She is covered in shadows.
Don't let the insecurity in her eyes stale the petals of lust.
Don't ask her name first, it's no use anyway. It's not a real, just like her smile.
Her identity subject to perceptions not strong enough to stand on its own.
Call her sweetheart, babe Or love or just don't watch your tone.
She is spanked to desperation.
She is fucked to frustration.
The marks on her thighs, a proof of how easy it is for her to make someone lose control.
By playing a role or just a wink.
Or some cable ties and kink.
You can spank her to frustration.
You can f**k her to desperation.
She shouts in her perfect voice, "ride boy ride".
Yes, ride boy ride.
Ride her with all your manhood, watch it shrinking by her side.
Ride her with all your strength watch that power melting beneath her eyes.
She is a piece of art gone wrong.
A hard blow of a ceaseless Storm.
A fallen ray from the twilight Sky.
Selling her body for clothes, selling her smile for tears.
Burning by a match you light so her daughters stomach won't burn.
She opens her legs every time you look at her to hold what you can't anymore.
You are a pilgrim, she is a goddess.
Or maybe you are just a monster and she a lamb, more than willing to be slaughtered. Torn apart, from limb to limb.
She is selling her identity for survival.
But ask her name next time, her real name so we don't have to call her 'she'.
She is someone's sister, daughter, mother or wife.
She is drenched in vex .
She uses a tool called sex to counter strike the plight of almighty by selling her womanhood.
The parts he designed.
After all she is a woman and he a man.

Author's Note

Just sit down for a moment and think about all the times where you have sold yourself to people in ways you didn't realise.

Reviews

[T.S. Ulmus]

I love how you seamlessly cross the line between exploited and exploiter. She is simultaneously victim and assailant. That's not an easy picture to paint but you've done it here quite well. The rhyme scheme it's ambitious and you executed it nicely, you also have some lovely turns of phrases. All together, it's a good write.

[Ankita Dwivedi]

Thank you for your visit and words.. Really appreciate it, my friend..

[Brad Dehler]

Very nice poem. It really is comforting and enrapturing at the same time. Sensual and lovely. Thank you Ankita. With your description, it is evident that the intimate touch is a sacred act.

[Betty Hermelee]

I seems like this is a woman of the street, nights are her business, and days she may be dazed, half naked, walking the street, searching for nourishment. She is almost like an apparition , nobody seems to know her name. She sell hers body ; she seems to enjoy sex and let's her customers know this. She allows her body to be mistreated; a sad story indeed. But often this happens as a result of family family upbringing dysfunction.
Nice write
Best, Betty

[Chris Shaw]

Came back for a second read. Such a strong piece Ankita. This is the dark side of life that so many women have to endure just to survive. Just to put bread on the table for their kids. Putting themselves at risk to satisfy the lust of men. Tragic but I do not judge them because I think there but for the grace of God go I. Thank you for reminding us of how harsh life can be for some of our sisters.

Chris

[Ankita Dwivedi]

Thank you dear chris , for coming back here ..to read it again .. even i like this one a lot ..sometimes we are bound to judge , but one should take a step back and think hard by putting oneself in the put of her shoes . Have lovely day , my dear .
XO

[Chris Shaw]

Middle of the night for me. Not sleeping well, but good to come here to read :) Have a good day yourself. Call good things to you poet.

Chris

[Ankita Dwivedi]

oh i didn't think of that ! it's 9 in the morning here .. one of those nights one keeps turning and tossing on the bed ? ever heard an indian lullaby ? my mother used to sing that and it put me to magical sleep lol

[Chris Shaw]

Ah a lullaby would be good :) Unfortunately I have my husband's snoring in my right ear :) 4.30am here and I am just beginning to feel drowsy. Fingers crossed.

[Ankita Dwivedi]

i will cross my fingers for u too ! ah the snoring. lol ..best wishes to you

[Temporal light]

I say that the laws of karma needs changing
After this poem it is not right
Your spirit is yours
Be beholent to no man
Equal rights for all
Humanity ?

[Temporal light]

This is a heart breaking poem
It enrages any one with a heart
Women are not possessions
Some men are just scum
Should be illegal
So say temporal light

[Patricia]

This is amazing, so many terrific lines. This has dark imagery and feelings just burning the eyes and mind.... I Iove it

[Ankita Dwivedi]

Thank you for reading . Have a good day 😊

[duff]

This is wonderfully written and the intensity radiates throughout the entire poem. There is strength in your words and I'm glad I read it. Great work!

[Ankita Dwivedi]

Your words mean so much to me , dear duff :) keep safe and take care

[Tania Mo]

I know what you mean an you're right. Its not her shame.its theirs.

[.]

What an excellent write.... The sorrowful life of that woman.... Sometimes they are being type cast... They are given different names but their lives isn't easy. I like the line where you wrote their names aren't real like their smile.
Touchy piece.. I must say

[.]

Aren't... Typo error

[Ankita Dwivedi]

Thank you for your valuwords .. have a lovely day :)

[Davidgeo]

I'm not sure you know what insanity is.

[Ankita Dwivedi]

hey there ! I don't think we have met before . Hope you are doing amazing ..i would love for you to elaborate a bit on what you mean , i'm curious .
Love,
Ankita

[Davidgeo]

It's desperation. You are ultimately writing about desperation. Insanity would require a complete lack of rationality. It's hard to write about true insanity. It's hard to make sense of a thing that inherently doesn't make sense.

[Ankita Dwivedi]

I completely agree .. there's is desperation here , but much more ..hoe u didn't fail to see that .. the uncontrollable scenario of lust , desire and misery is wha ti have potrayed as my insanity ...one thing can be potrayed or percieved in billions of ways ..so maybe the way i percieved insanity here , is different than what you do
:)

[Davidgeo]

I fail to see a lot of things. This is true facts.

It's really not important how I feel about the specifics of your poem here.

It's good writing, no matter what I say in particular I think you write well.

[Ankita Dwivedi]

i think sometimes we all do and it's alrigt. Thank you for reading . :)