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Her captors did not hesitate
To desecrate and mutilate
Her consercrated cavern.

Now it lies,
Rent as the tomb of Christ,
And crying out
With Abel's voice.

The less taken path
Is her open grave,
The dry bush is her wreath.

The marching ants
May pay her homage
With bits of cockroach legs.

The crickets sing a requiem mass,
The spiders weave her shroud,
The blinded earthworms silently
Declare a solemn feast.

Crippity, crippity,
Slippery slomp,
The earthworms make
A solemn feast.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
Last few words: 
Abouy rape, which is an uncomfortable subject for many
Editing stage: 


Beautifully portrayed

Thanks for the kind words. You were right about the main subject of the poem. Delhi.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

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