Street Corner

I stand on the street corner,

Cold and alone.

Waiting and watching,

Knowing what's going to happen soon.

A man pulls up to me,

Showing me a 50 dollar bill.

I get in his car,

Feeling my heart sink low.

While I am doing the deed,

I'm crying inside.

"Help me Lord, I need to get away!",

But, all I hear is silence.

We finish the deed,

I get the money.

The man dumps me at the street corner,

And I wait for another car.

Taking more of my innocense,

Taking more of my life.


My pimp picks me up hours later,

Driving me to hell once again.

Not pleased at the money I got,

He hits me,

He pulls my hair,

Ordering me to earn more or else.

As I lay in my room,

Tears fall on my pillow.

Wishing I could get away,

Wishing I could be free,

And not have to face the street corner tomorrow.

This poem is about: 
My country


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