kafil uddin raihan. - A prostitute....

She is a mother,
She has loves,
She has dreams,
She is creative,
She is beautiful,
But above all to us,
She is a prostitute.

You hate her,
You scold her,
You leave her,
In the dark world,
You say her worse life,
To your all now,
She is a prostitute.

Can you answer me,
Why such identity of her?
Why she is so hated?
Who made her so?
The god or you?
Isn't it your nasty lust?
Isn't it your ugly greed?
Isn't it You man,
Who left her helpless?
Isn't it you man,
Who thrown her in darkness?
Isn't it you man,
Who pulled her to hell?
Isn't it you man,
For whom she is a prostitute?

Hey god, I confess,
On behalf of these cowards,
I confess my sin to make her so.
Judge yourself man,
Who suits in that burning hell?
Isn't that me, you, us, the lusty man?
Or that lady, who was born innocent?
But now to all of these society,
She is a prostitute.....

kafil uddin raihan.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-prostitute-2/