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CONFESSION OF AN INDIAN GIRL

What is he called who pays for my body?? Prostitute I looked at the white ceilings,   my thighs ached, I was touched passionately,  but not loved, My body was discovered,  but not my heart. He enjoyed my voice   and not thy screams. He fluttered his fingers over my chest and naval,  but never through my hairs and pains. The scars on my neck- red and swollen My lips remained silent without any mumble. I was left naked, wounded, torn Searching for life in vain. Follow us on :  Facebook page : https://www.facebook.com/creativebloggersInd/ Instagram : hhttps://www.instagram.com/creative_bloggers_of_ind/ Twitter : https://twitter.com/of_bloggers