July 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

she’s a five foot nine bullet,
ripping through the eyes of underpaid men,
with her cinnamon skin shining from the lights,
and her long, golden hair swinging wildly,
with every twist and turn her body makes.
she’s lost in a world that has consumed her,
her ravishing looks were her ticket in,
every night she performs, she dies a little inside,
the hungry looks on the faces of her audience,
makes her feel superior and inferior simultaneously.
she was told that her looks would take her far,
further than the group home she lived in,
so far she would never want to look back,
but now that’s she’s made it out,
she wants to regress.

La’Erica C.


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