Blood Was Shed At 6 PM

She (sister, mother, friend) walked confidentially home;
She used the same road she had known for years.

Cranberry it was; plastered on a somehow rusty half-fallen metal post. 

A few teases from the boys who lodged on the drains as usual.

It was the norm.
But, this time it was different.

She would usually plug-in her earphones to block the predator's remarks.
But this time it was different, a dark cloud hovered on her back.

A sharp pain suddenly encroached the back of her head
With a hurricane-like force, it brought her to her knees. 

Her guard was gone, she lied there helplessly in pain
As the predator forcefully took what it hadn't sowed.
Once again the vultures won.
Bloodshed at 6 pm, as her soul left her body.

She used the familiar road she knew 

She wore clothes below her knees
Covered her boobs
And didn't accentuate her God-given endowed body
But still, bloodshed at 6 pm.

Maybe it's not what she wore,

What time it was,

Or using an unfamiliar road.

Maybe they just don't care enough.

They don't care enough about her rights.

Her worth, her dreams. Or just her safety.

They lay low as long it's not their mother, sister, friend or lover.

They turn a blind eye and act as if everything is alright.

In a world where everything is falling apart 
Don't let common sense and humanity wither like the pot-hole drenched roads.

We just rename but never look at what really matters.

Until we all lookout for the next person, blood will still be shed at 6pm