When I was no longer pure,
Just an object to allure,
When the nights had price tags,
Just a font of bliss for the hags,
I realized this life of “chaste”,
Was nothing but a waste.

My flesh fetched me food,
All I could do was brood,
The knot was cut in the teens,
Lies, hopes settled in bed mean,
Beauty is a boon and a bane,
Alas! All I can do now is wane.

The queen of the red alley,
The prey to the King and ally,
The Magdalene who found no Jesus,
The woman with ‘chaste’ precious,
With a white soul sans the red hue,
Alas! They care about the body blue.

I, Mary the harlot of tinsel town,
An object of the people’s frown,
Live with the tainted crown,
“It is not the body but the soul,
A harlot is a human not a ghoul,
Chaste not by body but by role"
Aristotle