A fresh starts awaits.
But how is it fresh when she keeps slipping back to her old ways?
Promiscuity is nearing,
With open arms and a sly smile.

Seeking comfort in strangers' beds,
Reaching over for the unlit cigarettes
That will soothe her. She stares into nothingness and takes a drag,
Serenely happy - for a change.
She looks across and smiles
At the defined, naked body lying beside her
Calling her "bae" and "***" instead of "baby" and "honey".

Why does he call her that? Why is there no effort?

Why do they ask if she spits or swallows,
Instead of if she sings or dances?
Why do they kiss her neck,
Instead of kiss her hand?
Why do they take her to dark parks and alleys,
Instead of restaurants and malls?

And if she cries at nights when she's alone,
If she feels easy and used and of no worth

Why does she let them?