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Nov 2014
Snags in her tights,
Chipped black on her claws,
She stands against walls,
Vulnerable to the brawls.

A skirt grazing her thighs,
Too small for her liking,
She pulls at the seems,
And feeds the old men lies.

Lips that bleed,
Mascara stained cheek,
Frame too slim,
She's in the gutter, sensual and meek.

Lady of the night,
Rolls to your car,
beckons you with her finger,
hopes you won't linger.

A ten note slips,
Into her grip.
She squeezes.
It will feed her addiction.

She has money to pay,
Children to feed,
She digs her knuckles so much they bleed.

Life carries by,
As she tries to get high,
On the fumes of other men.

But the red light comes on,
Her skirt hitches up,
She cries as he whispers
good girl.

As he kisses her neck,
She thinks what the heck
Am I doing with my **** awful life,
Selling cheap love,
To father above,
In hope she gets a better price
than the tiny sum
From every business bloke that comes, beckons her into his arms.

She pulls at her pleather,
At her last tether,
Why am I in this life?

Soho's her home,
But it leaves her numb to the bone.

She has more than budget passion,
She craves style,
She fashion.

But instead the needle pierces,
And she sinks down,
Hating the body she's in,
Women walk and they frown,
But they don't understand how the girl feels deep down,
She just wants true love.

Oh heaven above?
If there is a Holy Spirit,
Let me be it,
For this withered young *******,
Belongs in your constitute,
Please, she begs, save me from the charity brutes.
Lydia Victoria Kate
Written by
Lydia Victoria Kate  20/F/Cornwall
(20/F/Cornwall)   
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