Whore

I was a whore long before I ever learned the meaning of the word

The dirty title I was endowed with

As long as I can remember I have worn that ball and chain

I learned very young that I could hide the curves of the broken down vessel that had betrayed me

But I could not hide from the contagion and decay that lived inside of it

It was as though anybody who looked

Could see through my skin at the rotten flesh and viscera I was left with

The first time I was a whore I still had yet to willingly let a man crawl into my body

And it was not willingly for a very long time

Though many men had made a home for themselves there

And so when I started to believe that there must be a reason

Maybe this really must be me, the dirty girl they told me I was

That was when I became a whore for the second time

If I do not have that, I am nothing

If I am not wanted, do I even exist ?

I have been conditioned to please

And found an identity in the carnage that was made of me

Belonging to everybody but myself

I have never felt human

I hope that one day I am not a whore.