Her Sonnet

A sonnet on what has become of a women who spent her life as a stripper and is now past her prime

crying

She is sparkling, as laughter and rum flows

Her eyes are daring, ready for adventure

 ‘Who is she?’ ‘Her job is to strike a pose’

Is the talk, she’d only dreamt to be the centre

 ‘Now what am I?’ She inquires of the wine

She’s spent her life being a complexion

A slave to vivacion and glamour combined

She’s tired of being another’s perception

But now wrinkles rest under her eyes

The glow of sensual appeal has grown dim

‘I was deceived now give me some highs’

She cries as liquid runs over the rim

 Now she lies on the ground full of regret

Trying to restrain tears bred by disrespect

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