City Workers

Her two-dollor lipgloss is smeared on her tobacoo stained teeth
She wanders the streets at night looking for acceptance
But she looks different in the hope of the morning
It’s too bad no one saw her then.
She is only alive when the moon glows radiance
With a cigarette always placed between her boney giners
She shivers on the corners in the hub of the city
It’s too bad her skirt is so short.
Her confidence as skimpy as her clothing
And her pocelain doll apperance exists no longer
Now craters and pockmarks take over
It’s too bad her clients don’t look at her face.
She swoons up to thier expensive car door windows
And begs for her next opportunity to buy her poison
She’s using almost every day now, her veins reveal it all
It’s too bad no one has time to care.
Sleeping in broken down warehouses with nails that snag her elbows
Her bed is made of Vancouver Suns as her head rests on concrete pillows
She has trouble sleeping now since her whole life is a nightmare
Its too bad she can’t wake up anymore.

City Workers

tasha11

Joined May 2008

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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