She was beaten. She was beaten throughout the whole night.
When the sun rose, and the maids left, she cried out for me.
I watched as her crippled hands crawled towards my direction.

I did not stir from my position.
She was an outcast.
She had broken the most important rule.
She was a geisha, that had learned to love.

I arose from my seat and turned away from her.
She was no longer my sister.
She was an outcast.
As I walked away I could hear her whimpers.

Geishas cannot love.