I imagine there are very few women who go into this profession willingly. A much abused woman I know described it as a living hell. This is her story.
She was a whore, a hooker, a prostitute
Beaten down by cruel men and a mean system
Yet still she had hoped that one day
She could escape and live some sort of a life.
She had always smiled and done her best
Though, unsurprisingly, it had never been her choice of job.
Inside, she was smiling now.
She had met him, oh so handsome and strong.
He had drawn her in to where she felt loved
Something that had seemed sadly lacking in her life.
That had only lasted a short time.
Soon, she just felt like she was his property.
The first time he hit her she had run away
But he found her and just beat her some more.
He never hit her on the face though
And soon she understood why – at a party.
She had expected it to be a party like any other
But then she saw him exchanging money with some men
And she knew…
They raped her, again and again
All five of them, over and over.
They hadn’t held back in any way
And she had felt so ashamed.
Soon after that he turned her out onto the street
‘To earn her keep’, he said.
Not caring what happened, anyone did anything
She was no longer revolted, just hurt and disgraced.
And now here she was.
Forty-five years old, looking like sixty
Lying in a hospital bed all wired up.
She had a bad heart, yet she still smiled.
She’d had a heart attack on the job
The client – punter, had almost had one too
He left sharpish she was told.
She cared nothing anyway.
Her ‘man’ had never given her anything
She had no money, she had no life
She had many, many bruises, inside and out.
But she smiled anyway.
She was worried about her heart
But they said she would be alright
If she stopped drinking and changed her life
She smiled again, he had said she was no use
He couldn’t look after someone who wasn’t earning.
She never thought a bad heart would be her saviour.
She knew now that she had a chance
She smiled yet again…
©Joe Wilson – Something to smile about…2015