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Naked, she stand, young, beautiful.

Tired, I stand, old, woeful.

Women walk, talk, and fall in here every day. All seeping with the desperate hope of getting out.

Lost in the circus screaming hate with every giggle.

Crying for a lost childhood, bad choices, or wishing to be seen, just once.

Sixteen shots, she can pretend. 

Hold her hope to see an end...

Empty, filled with wanting.

Climbing up onto, into, and all over his ego, trying not to look down.

Why did her father not love her?

Why am I left alone, and standing in my underwear?

I am, trying to be beautiful, enough...

To have him say yes, and allow me the pleasure of sitting... 

On, his, knee.

How did we get here?


How do we get out?

Lost time, and, life ended up on the sidewalk somehow.

A life in a bag and she's simply standing there.


She needs help, direction, protection, from herself?

Or does she?

How did we get here?

And how the fuck do I get out?



I need you to understand.

This is not who we wanted to be, it just seems her life has left her no other choice. 


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