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She crawls, blood red nails scratching at dirty bedroom walls,
she desperately tries to scream but no voice is ever heard,
from the strangled vocal chords of this trapped mockingbird.
From the day that she was born she's been fed nothing but lies,
men have always looked at her with lust and desire in their eyes,
forever hungry for a little piece of whatever it is that she has got,
for a little bit of money she'll lay back and let them take the lot.
It doesn't really matter to her whom the punter could be,
she'll just close her eyes, count from one through to three,
she needs her daily escape from the darkness of her realitity, 
the smack that she pumps into her veins is now her vitality.
Throughout the night she has always wandered on her own,
in this crazy underground world she is all alone,
it's dark in her daytime, but so much darker at night,
she cannot escape she's already given up on the fight.
She feels so numb there are no tears left for her to cry,
every day is a struggle, she often wishes that she could die,
she's always been a lost cause since the day she was born
now can she ever be a rose, she's always been the thorn.
She crawled, blood red nails scratched at dirty bedroom walls,
she desperately tried to scream, but no voice could be heard,
from the strangled vocal chords of that trapped mockingbird.

Copyright © Tony Kasazkaja 2015


hurtmurderprostitutiontony kasazkaja

◄ The Hero A Nation Forgot

The Tory Highwayman ►


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