From the crumpled curtain of cloud
Peeps the chastised virgin of bliss
To mock at ugly, earthly soul
Burnt by sun in toil on soil.
From carpet of cloud she stands and stares
With blink-less looks and sensual sights
She sees it all at one quick glance
Yet crave it daily for second chance.
Wasted in her maiden madness
Obsessed in her nightly peep-shows,
She sleeps through days in memories of nights
Her soul is soiled and chastity spoiled.
It is beautiful.
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