Girl Painted Red

A rustle of wind, caught her hair,

it swirled her tresses and a skimpy skirt,

she fluttered her eyelashes at bypassers,

smiled invitingly, trying to flirt.

It was a hot summer’s day all around,

yet she could feel a chill in her heart,

a gaudy suited man, stepped in her porch,

she brightened her smile, quick and tart.

It was usual for the men she bedded,

they came and went, satisfied to core,

but in their wake she cried and wept,

she felt like a mermaid washed ashore.

She was not endowed with wealth aplenty,

Nor was she blessed with a parent’s care,

She was always a prey, an exotic bait,

Never sheltered from stranger’s stare.

She never dreamed, for she just knew,

She would never have a ‘proper’ life,

She will be a bedsport, a playtoy,

She would be a whore, never a wife.

Her life was someone’s game of dice,

Yet she lived, she didn’t know why,

She still smiled at her new ‘customer’,

her present still lived, letting her future die.