There she is,
A dark silhouette under the lamp light.
A nameless face amidst the crowd.
The men flock,
Searching for their taste of heaven.
A few glances thrown in surreptitiously.
Rustle of clothes,
It’s the backseat or the alley each time.
The men walk on,
Without a look or a backward glance.
While she is left,
Picking up money tossed, tears disguised.
And you will see her there yet again.
For her it’s just work, the flesh trade!