She hates the world

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The first of a two poems about a man and a prostitute; the woman's perspective and a tale of her self loathing

Submitted: September 05, 2013

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Submitted: September 05, 2013

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He licks his lips
Her toes, they squirm.
She hates the world 
She hates the world
Is it worth the money?
Just 20 years old
She hates the world
She hates the world

She's on his bed
Undoes her dress
She hates the world
She hates the world
Just last year she would
Never do this
She hates the world
She hates the world

She took her studies
And failed though she tried
She hates the world 
She hates the world
Her parents, they slapped her,
Smirked as she cried
She hates the world
She hates the world

Morals aside, 
There's no god here
Does He hate the world?
Does He hate the world?
Takes off her bra,
Watch it disappear
She hates the world
She hates the world

His greedy mouth,
His sweaty lips
She hates the world 
She hates the world
Takes a deep sigh
And enters the abyss
She hates the world
She hates the world

The pain, it shrieks
Lets out a scream
She HATES the world
She HATES the world
Closes her eyes
But this is no bad dream
She hates the world
She hates the world

Prays it's all over
But no one hears her call
She hates the world 
She hates the world
Feeling so alone
Yet having a ball
She hates the world 
She hates the world

She gets her money
Straight in her hand
She hates the world 
She hates the world
A slither of sweat
Dripping down off her man
She hates the world
She hates the world

He hits her, and spits,
Yells in hate, 'just leave'
She hates the world 
She hates the world
For her old life
She quietly grieves 
She hates the world
She hates the world

She takes the money
To pay for her flat
She hates the world
She hates the world
Can she take this anymore?
Did she really do that?
She hates the world...

The glamour of the hotel
Contrasts with the guests,
The scratch on her back,
The rip in her dress
The tears in her eyes
As she hates who she is
The feeling of sickness,
The feeling of what's this?

The memory of the man
As he moans as she cries
The memory of wiping his 
Spit from her eye
The present as she grabs 
The scissors from the draw
The slice as she wonders
What all of it's for


© Copyright 2018 S Lavender. All rights reserved.

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