Sour Sixteen by Ajise Vincent

In her mind are awful contempts
Mowing her emotions to decadence
Each Hour that goes forth preempts
A threnody of languorous cadence

A lass of rich adolescence
Beaten and raped by thoughtless men;
Till her impeccable semblance
Faded like a seasoned quean

Pangs abide in her magnificently
Conquering entirely her heart chambers
Urge of puberty dies apparently
Her virginity now a dirge for mourners

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