There are scores of holes in the soles of her shoes
She’s mainly paid daily by men she peruses
Cold streets, warm heart, no phone and no home
Lows and highs, she cheats and lies, and feels alone

Born with a spoon in her mouth, not silver
Tent by the river - she lives there and shivers
Ashamed to be raised with no mates nor praise
Awake every night and cat naps in the days

Not laid-back but lays on it for crack
Wants to escape but in a cycle, she’s trapped
Longs for more than cold concrete and danger
Scared of the mirror but risks sleeping with strangers

Sells her soul to the devil but he pays quite well
In a pipe she’s in heaven, without it is hell
Or she picks up a needle and drops to the floor
Wakes up with a bruise and a head very sore

Attempts to escape her fate but, too late…
She’s stuck in a rut and the rut, she hates
Strictly sticking to street tricks, she’s prone
To living in sin - she’s alive, lost and feels alone