She hangs over the tall branch,
Awaiting someone to pass by.
Smelling something fishy,
Excites her hunger, makes her sigh.
Flaunting her wild hairs,
Covered in algae and moccasins.
Stinky rotten flesh turned grey,
Craving hilsha in copper basins.
Faded saree, turmeric stains,
Pungent and putrid, reeking death.
Eyes red, glazed with gluttony,
Sniffing the air, in every breath.
Silver anklets of her past life,
Someone's daughter, someone's wife.
Now a wretched being, thirsty for more,
Lock your kitchens, lock your door.