CALL GIRL

She uses her pretty face to set meals on her table
Her bills get paid by the swiftness of her hips because her brains aren’t able.
At least that's what she tells herself to get through the day

At night the company of strange men silences the thoughts as she offers them a lay.
Two, three, five rounds depending on how deep his pockets
Currencies assigned to orgasms popping his eyes out of their sockets.
He jabs deep into her, digging her pelvis like a man in search of a treasure
He has a family at home, a paying job but in her hole is where he finds his pleasure.
“Call me Daddy” he instructs as she stirs his excitement wild
For a moment she wonders what daddy would do this with his child.
Three years, eight abortions because her womb is no home for his seeds
His only use for her is to satisfy his own feeble needs.
He’s weak in the world but in her bed she makes him feel stronger
A little extra cash on the table to make the foreplay last a little longer.
Her pleasure is secondary to his; he doesn’t notice her self-lubricating
Though it’s her he pictures in the office bathroom when he finds himself masturbating.
Three nights a week for two hours, she almost looks forward to his visits
Who knows what he’ll ask for next so her leisure time is spent practicing flips and splits
One drawer is full of condoms of every size, color and odor
The other with birth control and morning after pills just in case he decides to go in raw.
She’d tie her tubes but she has silent prospects of a husband and a kid
Believes she knows the secret into the heart of men and waits on the timing of cupid.
A mistress of erotic arts bearing naivety like her is often unseen
Her thin waist, voluptuous ass and breasts hold back that she’s only sixteen.
“I’m only doing this for the money” has grown into a four year old chant
The way out for an orphaned child oppressed by empty days and an abusive aunt.
Prostitution is a trait for many growing girls in her neighborhood
The elders give up on them and cry that they’d amount to nothing good.
She remembers very little of her father and she knows he wouldn’t be proud
But he had left her alone in a scary world and for that her actions were allowed. 
She thinks of her mother with a lot more grace
Reminds herself of the effortless smile that rested upon her friendly face.
“Mama, I want to be just like you” her mind hears herself utter
Mama replied “You won’t be like me my child. You will be better”.
And when she’s drawn into the words her mother had said
She whispers “I’m sorry” as another stranger occupies her bed.