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A CRY AGAINST CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE



Walking back home through the boulevard,
I realized some child cry hard.
With etched fear, I decided to see,
What it could actually be.
Peeping through the air vent,
Being able to see to a small distant.
I noticed a girl(barely teen), and a fat man,
Who was likely to be her headman.

I couldn't forget the face of that angelic girl,
Tear filled eyes, yet it silently glittered like pearl.
Hiding there,nothing much I could do,
But empathize, as her master hit her black and blue.
Cries of hunger and pain as she braved through the daylight,
Unable to stop the dirty men, who pounded and raped her every night.
Her innocent heart cried for survival,
For there was no way she could escape from this brothel.

THAT LAST NIGHT

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 26; the 26th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'That Last Night'.


image courtesy ;- google images 
It was snowing heavily,
I was in my car driving happily.
Suddenly, up front a huge tree collapsed,
Realized it as my nerves got synapsed.
To stop, had to apply the breaks rapidly,
Now stuck up in a place, feeling lonely.


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