The moon speaks in glyphs
on the faces of young girls,
where miracles tear
at their souls,
rescue is nigh and
ignorance is bliss.
in the dead end of the red carpet
selling flowers hustling for gold.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
The moon speaks in glyphs
on the faces of young girls,
where miracles tear
at their souls,
rescue is nigh and
ignorance is bliss.
in the dead end of the red carpet
selling flowers hustling for gold.
Prostitution
These are all kids caught up in the crossfire of circumstances some rarely make it out OK!
Request permission to use this poem