Nomad

Before the cold gaze of the Almighty lies prone in supplication,
An eight-year-old in a purple dress. Asking not for a better grade,
Rather mercy from men who are wearing the sacred thread. Horses
Grazed on the meadow.. but those wolves beckoned the vagabond girl
Instead. I do not know why she never had an opportunity to be in school,
When her elder brothers did. Into the forest she trotted, and they grabbed
Her by the neck. Was force-fed sedatives, dragged by the collar, chained up
In their cave.. then tiny legs were spread. Oh dear! They relished. Ravished.
Ravaged. When done, decided to strangle. Smashed a boulder on the head.
Once more, just to ensure the kid is dead. Bleeding red ain’t good enough,
Check if the shoulders have stopped to fidget. No sound of her mother’s
Soft lullaby to be found nearby, but now it is time for this little brat to be
Quietly put to bed. “Wait a minute!”, a voice from the back suddenly said.
“If you all could permit, I need to thrust my dick one last time before that.”