
Call me a prostitute
A sex slave
Or rather a chronic drinker
But deep within l know
I am a victim of circumstances
What else could i be
When the woman who gave birth to me
Dumped me in the ruins to die
Just tell me
What life could i lead
When the people Who raised me
Took advantage of my innocence
Raped and defiled me every night
Used and threw me into the streets
The whole world turned against me
And I chose to seek solace in the bottle
I have seen fingers point at me
And my criticism has been put in black and white
My judgement has been written red on the walls
And a big label has been planted on my face
They call me a harlot and addict
But it’s a life so blamelessly I take it
What’s more to live for?
When the canorous bird chirps is a nuisance to me
I am maimed and the only
Consolation is the burning urge to light my cigar
So fast they judge
Even when an anchor to my terrible lifestyle they cant undo
It is not their envisage that anything good can come out of me
But still they gossip of my uselessness
Till the last blink of the sun
Do you think I feel proud
When men dig into my land each night
And I smile to make them happy
But deep within i am shattered
I sell the nectar from my rose
Just to pay for my bills
I cry myself to sleep
But proudly they scold me
They take me for a snake in a red rope
Even when the least of my knowledge I plan to attack
I am not an adder
Please stop painting me hate
None of my actions can be justified
But at least my breath can give account
To my attempt to get a life.
©Dorky
©Cliff The Poetry