Yes, she's a prostitute, but it's not her choice
To sell her body for a meager price
She has mouths to feed, children to care for
In a world where poverty knocks on her door
Her dreams faded long ago
Replaced by the harsh reality she knows
Every touch, every kiss, every whispered lie
A means to survive, to get by
Judgmental eyes cast upon her
But they don't see the struggle, the fear
They don't see the strength it takes
To face the darkness every day
So before you label her with shame
Remember, she's a mother with a name
A woman fighting to stay alive
In a world where survival is a daily strive.
©My Loquacious World
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