That Lady The Whore Poem by raechael woodroof

I saw her walking down the street around dawn.
Easy to spot she wasn't out for a jog.
She did pass some women who were though, they whispered and tried not to let on they were staring.
She could feel it, but wearing the look of someone who had never felt enough or felt far too much in her life, yet it was a type of stare she was used to.
Cars pass.
Everyone looking at the woman with her well worn heels that seemed to be far too small for her, the blue jean skirt that even in warm weather would still have given far too clear a view into her drug of choice, that stained tank top wrapped by a flimsy jacket that was probably soaked in a small bit of every regret she would have to add to her already swelling self hatred by the time her dope wore off, and finally you saw her face it was a washed out gray with just enough black smears, wrinkles, scabs, glitter, and despair to let on to her career choice.
An old truck passes she dropped the jacket down around her shoulder.
Still willing to work even at this late hour.
The driver must have declined, so again she walked.

I didn't see her after she turned the corner though I am sure we all know well enough the story of her life, that of the drug addicted and abused whore.
Filthy things.
I couldn't help but wonder what she would have looked like clean.
What her smile would be like and who it would reach if she only knew what love felt like.
What wrong turn her life had taken that now she must sell her flesh to eek out this sad semblance of existence, if one could call it that.
I would assume it is in fact only her flesh she sells since she looked as though her soul had died long ago.

I know it is silly to wonder about whores.
Far easier to let them go on adding to the drug and crime rates.
Adding to the spread of sexually transmitted disease.
Adding to the number of abused and neglected children that are off to become wards of the state the moment their withdrawals are over.

Yes far easier to turn a blind eye to one's suffering and the way they add to the 'world's problems' we complain about ever so loudly.

Taking time to care is far too taxing a proposal.