Thursday, July 8, 2010


She was a pretty baby...
with golden locks of hair.
A perfect child.
She could have gone anywhere...
done anything.
Her intelligence was rare...
as was her beauty.
She loved the "dance".
studied ballet...
day and night, she gave it her life...
though it caused her great strife.
She toured with the professional companies.
Then her body gave out.
Her mind followed with shouts of madness.
no fame
pills helped
to ease the pain.
It never went away.
She physically healed.
She was broke.
Hopes were concealed...
in her broken heart.
She took a job dancing the pole...
in gentlemen's clubs.
You know the role.
money was good, when she got paid.
She gave the men, "wood"...
in a dangerous hood.
It was not ballet,
but "what the hay?"
It paid the cheap thrills.
She was a pretty baby...
golden locks of hair,
a perfect child.
She could have gone anywhere...
but she didn't care.
She was a pole dancer.
She ended up here...
smelling cheap beer...
and perspiration from men,
who degraded her...
time-and-time again.
Her past was her dream...
the future it seems,
was nowhere to be seen...
for the fair-haired, girl...
who could have gone anywhere.
Here at the club,
where men touched, and rubbed...
with dirty hands, and soiled money,
they all called her, "honey".
She was a pole dancer.

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