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Ballad of a Prostitute

Poetry By: Tony Hart

The yearning desire of a prostitute.

Submitted:Sep 19, 2012    Reads: 94    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   

Love. Happiness. Family.

These were the words she whispered over and over

Words which were more than just words to her

Instead it was a desire

A yearning

A dream that will never be made reality

She stared into her faded blue eyes

And longed for the days they were ocean blue

She ran her hands through her fiery red hair

And along the surface of her naked, porcelain skin

Her body was simply an empty shell

The shell of someone she used to be

The shell of someone she wanted to be

A shell scarred and bruised by those she sold it to

This was a life she never asked for

A life she never foresaw

A life she regretted

Yet a life she delves deeper in at the awaking of each moon

As a night falls

A new customer awaits

And there in the dark she gives

Physically present

Mentally, emotionally, spiritually absent

The plight of this life she regrets

And between each ragged breath and immature stroke of her client

She contemplates whether death would be a kinder fate

Hours after her nightly encounter

She stares at her foreign reflection

Love. Happiness. Family.

She whispers to her pain stricken face.


She loads the gun.


She takes in a deep breath


She pulls the trigger.


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