The Whore

Night as silent as she
Occasional sounds, like the
Cries that escape from her, helplessly
She sits and waits
For work, to serve her purpose
Waits to be bait

Door opens, her breath stops
“Your cheapest one, please”
The transaction is made; instant and prompt
He appears in front of her,
Bulging, impatient
She weeps for she knows she is seized

First push, closed eyes, hold on tight
Second push, defeated by his unbeatable might
Fifth push, fading dreams, fading conscious
He grunts with pleasure, she is unresponsive
Tenth push, crushed under his weight
Why am i punished to this fate?
Twentieth push, she is burning inside
He smiles and laughs, finished with pride

Bruised and battered
Choked, used, broken

This is not a woman
This is a product; reusable
A juiced fruit
A licked wrapper
A product with a brain
A product that feels pain

Leanne Patel

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