SHE (AGAIN). She can be soothing as honey, Piercing as a dagger, The society treats her like a machine, Machine with breasts and vagina, A machine to please the humans called "MEN". I ain't talking about the men who worship Durga, But those who lust over the hidden nipples of that clay sculpture. They think it's their signature on us, They treat us to get their semen out, And once those eleven minutes are over between the legs, They retreat, Retreat from the trillion promises they did. One batch treats us like the escorts for their crave, The other class treats us with the eyes of disgust. Even if you are a virgin, You are impure, They say, " You talk to boys, Sit with them? " "Oh ! Such a whore." You see these marks on my body, Yes they can hurt you, Your biological self, But how did you forget the trans soul you have, Who's fighting on your behalf ? You are the nectar once taken, in delusion, You are the axe that ca