Yatih Jha Poet Free verse

The Night the Moon Turned Red

Tears trickle down my face
As blame of something I did not provoke,
Comes screaming my way.

I told them I said no.
I told them I screamed.
I told them I begged.
But all that came my way was
A merciless laughter,
Telling me it was all in vain.

My clothes were blamed
And so was my body.
What am I supposed to do,
When both are belittled
Despite the form they take?

I asked them what my fault was,
I asked them why they defended them.
When I was the one begging them not to blame me.

For all I remember is walking down a moonlit street,
My overcoat tied to my upper body,
Knee-high boots concealing my lower body
And eyes ignoring the lustful gazes
That made fear turn my mind into incoherent dazes.

Suddenly the moon turned red.
My overcoat was thrown away
And boots screamed on the pavement,
As they mercilessly dragged me away.

My screams were muffled
And my eyes were teary-
Both with tears and pain-
Before my body succumbed
And they had their way.

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