An attempt to write few lines, from a prostitute’s take on life.
I always had a dream, a dream of love
For a man in my life, for a caring soul
Destiny had its laugh, played its game from above
It gave me a line of men, didn’t hear my cries of foul
I always sigh, if I could love and wed
Yet again I stare, at the unmade bed
No I won’t, I won’t tell you why I do this
You always see the sun, not the shadow it causes
Your eyes see only flesh, not the life it misses
Oh, if you could only see my heart, its wounds and gashes
I wail and cry until I am all sore
Yet again I wait, for a knock on my door
Yes I do, I do grieve for myself
I grieve for my dreams but I don’t regret
I did what I had to; in times of need
At least I don’t hide behind a pretext
I wake up at twilight, willing it to be surreal
Yet again I gear, for another night’s ordeal
I still have my head held high; I have my heart pristine
I still have dreams in my eyes; I have a smile on my lips
I still care in my heart; I have compassion for thy
Yet again I sleep; this is my life’s eclipse.
Yet again I stare, at the unmade bed
Yet again I wait, for a knock on my door
Yet again I gear, for another ordeal
Yet again I sleep, if you call that so