 |
| (Source: thegreencities.com) |
The Streetwalker
With
blood red lips and stiletto heels,
She
strolls about the road,
Tossing
her head at the girls across the street.
She’s
worth more than that entire load.
Ten
years and more she’s been at this work.
She’s
fought and clawed and even bled,
To
win this little corner of hers,
To
keep her safe and her kid fed.
They
don’t like her and she knows it,
Those
girls on the other side,
They’re
jealous of her and want to be her.
If
only they’d listen, but they won’t. She knows, she’s tried.
She’s
tried to tell them of the first time,
She
cried herself to sleep that night.
Tried
to tell them of her dear friend, Molly,
Her
customer choked her a little too tight.
These
young ones, they just don’t know yet.
They’re
young and clueless, and some not very smart,
Looking
for a little fun and adventure,
They
just don’t get the horrors that come with the part.
She
laughs to herself; she called them “young ones”,
But she’s not that much older,
Life
has made her a cynical old woman,
And
every job leaves her that much colder.
She’s
used to the disdain of the passersby.
They
think she doesn’t have a clue.
Just
the other day the lady in the shop ‘round the corner said:
“We
don’t serve the likes of you!”
She
was fourteen when they took her,
Sixteen
when they dumped her on the street,
With
a weak baby wailing in her arms,
She
did the only thing she could to get her kid something to eat.
- Society destroys and then condemns -
By
Stephanie Nugara
