Death Of The Innocent Whore

she submits to the
hold of the chains
hoping to regain her
freedom that he once
took away from her

soon, soon, she keeps
telling herself
the iron chains tighten
on her arms

soon, soon, she keeps
telling her body
gyrating to the feast
of his drunkenness

to Bacchus he cheers
till dusk

until one day a dead woman
lies dead on the floor
bathed in her own blood

she finally got
what she had long sought.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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