She crawls, blood red nails scatch at dirty bedroom walls, she tries to scream but no voice is ever heard, from the vocal chords of a trapped mockingbird.

Since the day that she was born she’s been fed nothing but lies, men have always looked at her with desire burning in their eyes, forever hungry for a piece of whatever it is that she’s got, for a little money she’ll lay back, let them take the lot.

It no longer matters to her whom the punter could be, she’ll just close her eyes and count from one through to three, desperate for an escape from her darkened reality, the smack that she pumps into her veins has become a vitality.

Throughout the night she has always wandered on her own, in this crazy underground world she is all alone, its dark in her daytime but so much darker at night, she can never escape, she’s already given up on the fight.

She feels so numb, she has no tears left to cry, each day is a constant struggle, she often wishes that she could die, she’s been a lost cause since the day that she was born, how can she ever be a rose, when she has always been considered the thorn.

She crawled, blood red nails scratched at dirty bedroom walls, she desperately tried to scream but no voice could ever be heard, from the strangled vocal chords of a trapped mockingbird.

(c) copyright Tony Kasazkaja 2015. all rights reserved