The Outcast

It rained on and on.
The fire in the hearth had long died out.
Hunger grew,
Frustration raged.

Vultures swooped down to feed on flesh.
Half willing, half resenting,
Surrendered, rather Subdued,
Desire spilled over,
Waves surging past the log.

Passion spent,
Hunger appeased,
Purse strings loosened,
And silver coins tinkled.

Amply paid,
The toil not wasted!

The reel of Time unwound itself,
And the scenes, constantly replayed.
‘Exploring hands encounter(ed) no defence'.
Each day closed in smutty h(r) ut,
When the h(r) ut turned a slut,
She started to rot.

Feeble she grew,
Languid she became,
Body thinned,
Energy waned,
Ailments plagued,
And
Immunity lost!

Now,
She lives an outcast.
A wild flower, wilted by the wind!
A luscious fruit, blighted by the worms!

poem by Valsa George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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