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Not a night passes by without hating the streets, life on the edge, lurid stares, abuse. To most onlookers just trash to ignore, alone and scared, trading pleasure for room and board.


High from addiction, working the streets
Fishnet stockings and stiletto heels
Numb from narcotics, aching inside
Abandoned, forgotten, hooking for Johns

Cold and hungry, nowhere to escape
Stalked and beaten, accosted by knife
Demeaned, without value, a heart turned cold
Sleazy existence, cast away pride

Deprivation stalks them seeking release
Each turn of the corner, darkened back lane
Tears flow like bloodshed from tormented souls
A hardened posession, throw-away toy

Owned by a butcher, a victim of force
Controlled by this demon, fearful of death
Abuse and profanity, scarred for life
Promiscuity traded for a price

Shredded of dignity, shameless rag doll
Dressed up, alluring, a beckoning glance
Stepping out for a trick, plying her trade
In a world of desire, taken again

------
Don MacIver
Come on a journey with me...where eagles soar.


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The following comments are for "Stepping Out"
by EaglesSoar





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