prostitution
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You can hear them in the nurseries addicted before they breathe.
You can rock them, gently rock them, but still the babies grieve.
You can watch them on a playground fighting foes that don’t exist,
A woman has rights,
But I’m told it’s her choice if she dies on the table,
Surgical steel stabbed through the womb,
Bleeding out, bleeding death,
Bleeding money.
A woman has rights,
Like emotion and color
Time is a lie
It puts into perspective
Death and Life
Black and White
Night and Day
What have you done to me?
Got wandering the streets at 3 AM.
Knowing you're laying with another man.
Got my will, fight, and strength in the palm of your hand.
I am foolish to fall in love
She walks home cautiously, peering down the street
The man in this darkness she does not want to meet
But still, he closely follows
Locking the door, she feels strangely hollow
They say you see
someone’s soul
Through their eyes
I see their souls
In the money they
Slide into my jacket
She grabbed her pearl beads
And her room key
Left her soul in agony
Cold street corners
Search for donors
Empty handed she won’t be
Empty hearted, possibly
Dying slowly, audibly
I look up in the sky
And I wonder why?
Why is it blue,
When blue means, boo-hoo
Why is all this happening to me?
Why won’t someone help me?
What else is there to live for?
Shadows,
Acrosss the field,
Across the meadow,
Across the lawn and across the room,
As the adults yawn and the children snore.
Lollipops, gumdrops,
Nightmares and blessed dreams,
She stands on the corner, barely 18
Hasn't showered in days but waits
Waits for a man who needs an illegal touch
The body of an adolescent becomes tainted
She looks for independence on an incredibly tight leash
From the day we are born in our lives are in danger.From the moment she took her first breath,Her fate had been decided.She never even made it home.Straight to the chicken farm she went.
A dollar, a dime a minute
Time is money honey, where'd you sleep last night?
A stranger's bed is warmer
Than the cold, hard street, she says,
Every foot that walks on by
Might as well be a kick in the face
For every child that cries at night,
Rewind back to your own early times,
Every laugh you laughed, every song you sang,
Every child should experience the same.
Do not all children dance joyously, you say?
I spent a year in a foreign placeWandering about what truths I would learn or face...
He is granted the Moses opening
The water from her eyes drown the aftermath
Penury has foisted her innocence
Extenuating the bedlam accrues everyday
The sight of flesh is beginning to sear
Her eyes,Melting away,Into sadness,Into decay,People who,Describe her look,May say she's undecided,But not a crook,When she rises early in the morning,She makes no sound,
When A woman lays down and gives her innocence to a man it's described as beautiful
When A man takes advantage of the privelage it's often usual
Being A good father to your child is unusual
she struggles from the hardwood like a creamy stalliondrowning in a raging surf. her limbs
the appendages of a white crab spider sprawl bent,slender supple bones. her eyes
A lady in disguise
A mistress for a night
Getting done up
So they will take her down
A slave to he who uses her
He who justifies his deeds with a few coins
A lady who knows no love
Rusty bricks painted by graffiti.
Lit neon flickered—
Quick Draw! ATM Inside!
Steam rose out of street grates
as if it were ghostly fingers come to carry sinners below.
The sign posted—
Asha Neeman grew up in the suburbs of the big city,
Always making others laugh,
She was so witty.
A great athlete and a straight “A” student,
Every boy wanted to be with her,
But hated her prudence.
Deep moans drift in the room.
Liquid hunger screams from my veins.
Acid leaks from my lips.
Agony drips from my head.
I am wounded, and all I want is more.
more of her to heal my pain,
The only thing I'm good at is being banged in bed sheets over the head
Bodies touch emotions would rush but there's none
No passion
no good reason or ration
Just for money to blow, a high rate hoe
The freak sticks out like a sore thumb in school.
All day, every day.
She goes home
and it's just the same.
Nobody wants to speak to her
for they fear they will be
reduced in social status.
Blindfolded
I am led to the asphalt
And blindfolded I stand
Hoping these men
Will pave the way
In the night
they seek young girls for their amusement
sometimes
they hunt with bait
dripping with honey
sweet words
nice calls
pretty gifts
they crave injustice
like its a bigmac
