L: Alone on the Corner

She's burning inside while standing there,
to expose her thoughts is vile.
Alone with no-one to confide in - can't do it,
just won't do it.
Her carriage awaits and the chauffeur beckons:
the carpet rough upon her skin, the friction
burns her back.

He does, she pretends to; another job completed.
It hurts so much but she needs the money,
children hanging from her breasts
while the men invade her like ants.
A few quid here, there and everywhere,
she isn't really anywhere.

They represent nothing, she is the desperate -
her duties to her family weigh down. Poor child,
she has no love just grunts.
The 'slut', the 'whore' can't show her face at school;
rejected by the society that abuses her. Hypocricy
drove her to the oldest profession.