old strumpet's limp epic

i met an old and limp strumpet
down in the damp alley
at the corner of the city
enchanting melodious madrigals
for only the night wind could bear

cigarettes smoke, heavy breath and
the smell of death
wafted through the air
thickening the ominous rage
of the old and limp strumpet

she waved her hands
to the lad of tyrant
wished he would be the sweet epilogue
of her epic route
the macabre episode
of her hackneyed soul

but the sweet young lad didn't lend his heart
he handed her a golden epaulette instead,
which belonged to his old dad
a medallion of the old-time lust

the time when he saw a girl being smirched
in the damp alley, at the corner of the city

like a hailstorm bit the harvest
nothing good was left
a girl of twelve
bellowed with pain
alone she moaned in the rain

no one estoppped the profanes
from torturing her body
and crushing her mind...
into the murky pond,
she was drawn
for so many years...
she couldn't count ...

the bloody memory etched her mind
this old strumpet still clearly saw
the man with the golden epaullete
joined the haemal festivity for another 20 years...

here in the damned old alley....