Yet Again

An attempt to write few lines, from a prostitute’s take on life.

I always had a dream, a dream of love

For a man in my life, for a caring soul

Destiny had its laugh, played its game from above

It gave me a line of men, didn’t hear my cries of foul

I always sigh, if I could love and wed

Yet again I stare, at the unmade bed

No I won’t, I won’t tell you why I do this

You always see the sun, not the shadow it causes

Your eyes see only flesh, not the life it misses

Oh, if you could only see my heart, its wounds and gashes

I wail and cry until I am all sore

Yet again I wait, for a knock on my door

Yes I do, I do grieve for myself

I grieve for my dreams but I don’t regret

I did what I had to; in times of need

At least I don’t hide behind a pretext

I wake up at twilight, willing it to be surreal

Yet again I gear, for another night’s ordeal

I still have my head held high; I have my heart pristine

I still have dreams in my eyes; I have a smile on my lips

I still care in my heart; I have compassion for thy

Yet again I sleep; this is my life’s eclipse.

Yet again I stare, at the unmade bed

Yet again I wait, for a knock on my door

Yet again I gear, for another ordeal

Yet again I sleep, if you call that so