There she walks, pretty as plastic, young/old, Lolita with a limp.
clothes too tight, strut just right, make her boyfriend happy tonight.
at least, perhaps, he won’t beat her.
you have seen her from afar, drive slowly past her in your car.
you know the game. each night’s the same. faces may change.
you’re looking for a toy. a girl, or perhaps a boy.
its just a little fun. no harm is ever done.
a deal between two equals; well, maybe you’re on top.
but wait, Man. there’s more to this picture. that girl that you buy,
she could be your sister.
why do you conspire to deny her her life?
do you know how she was drawn into this trap?
do you care?
do you know how she was betrayed, beaten, and forced to be there?
the bruise, covered by rouge.
you might as well have made it.
you call it your hobby, but in fact it’s an addiction
and both of you are chained to it.
but you, Man, can just quit.
she can’t, as long as you will buy.
how long will you crush her?
when did your soul die?