Story of a criminal

My thoughts were dark,
they were covered with loath
and a great amount of contempt.
They took away my capacity to perceive
I lived a little less,
more like a cipher
dejected, in fry
glory was a far cry.
In a moment of rut, I perpetrated a sin
ruthlessly  I plundered my meek victim
blood, anguish, clamor
and her feeble stammer
but I was deaden, barbarous.
A rapacious criminal,
a man not human.
I maliced her soul along with mine
forgiveness was just not fine.
I was a heartless lack
and now
with my dark thoughts I waited for my sack.

Stare

I walk alone
slowly and effortlessly
smiling with happy realization
left and right in sequence
hair blowing back
chilly wind kissing my skin
when suddenly I feel a stare
uneasiness reside in my heart.
Steps more careful
in panic I walk, my speed a little fast.
I dare not look back for things will be sure
unsurety keeps me at peace.
Slow run and then a fast walk
I feel the touch
cold and a pinch
my garment being stretched
causing me to flinch.
Courage in my soul, fear in my eyes
I finally look back banishing my lies.
Those pair of devil eyes
moving up and down
from my bosom to my thighs.
That was the stare I feared
resented in fact
that stare I couldn't handle
in his very presence
forcing me to mantle
but folding my hands
I gave a stare back
shunned away those lies
turning towards my track.

Her last man

As she lined her deep eyes with mascara
she heard voices,
voices that were accusing her of selling, prolicide and prostitution
and long back she chose to reject these.
She was young
only her puffed rosy cheeks made her look ripe.
She was given names that degraded her
but what were names for an unburdened soul.
She was accused of sleeping with men
and there was one waiting for her.
She checked herself one last time
it was a routine though
until she finally eloped with her last man. 

Harlot

She was like illusion
hallucinating the world with her presence
not so eminent.
That smile she carried
was rare and magic
it deceived her admirers.
The chivalry came with expensive gifts
Those handsome illustrious warriors
for prospect
each seeking her graces.
She was a show
sweet cadence, a muse
there was no cad just foppish admirers.
Calling her a harlot?
That would be wrong.

The broken window

It broke
though in an artistic way
with shape unknown.
The pane got disturbed and shivered slightly
it gave way to things
things that were not permitted before.
Though broken the window seemed alive.

Captive

She was contemplating using a sharper blade, her dainty wrist ready. Just then the door creaked open, the creaking made her shiver. The wind stroked her causing the sharp blade to fall from her hand- it was as if she had made an involuntary movement to hide herself. The same tall figure with dusted boots stood before her. She had seen him before, not wanting to be horrified she curled herself holding her legs with her hands and hiding her face morbid.  She could still hear the sound of the boots walking towards her, she kept on shifting backwards until her back hit the wall behind.
He held her hair and lifted her face up for another sour encounter. He looked into her eyes and smirked. Planning to kill yourself, are you ? he asked with a grin. Her failure to do the same caused a tear to fall from her eye. She wasn't scared anymore, she was numb. She couldn't feel the pain he gave her. Months of captivity, she was already lifeless.
You cannot choose to die in matters of trade he said.It was time for her to leave, again.