She woke up in the middle of a small dark room.
Her clothing lay in a heap across the floor, thrown and strewn.
The air smelt of cigarettes and alcohol, it was dry, musky and stale,
It reminded her of those nights that she spent in jail.
Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips were chapped,
her body was sore all over, and her skin was cracked.
She looked older then she was, she felt it too;
working the streets did that to you.
She looked around, not knowing where she was,
She never does.
Feeling the cravings, she needs another fix
So its time to head out to the streets and turn some more tricks.
Putting on her barley there clothes, as she’s about to step out the door
Takes a quick look in the dirty mirror, and doesn’t know who she sees anymore.
Unknown "my Katz" Hurt
- 16 years, 3 months, 7 days ago