The park was mobbed today, people
rushing passed, knocking the girl to the floor.
Picking herself up, scarred
disfigured, broken and bare.

Only to be greeted in the early hours of the morning
by animals.
She, a recluse, lit up a cigarette
and watched the animals come running,
licking her wound,
selling herself to the dirt.

So do your worst little girl.
You, the dirt and your heels.
Society’s scent, smelling the sick,
of a girl doing her deed.

Accustomed to the men and their worn, raided pockets,
dog-eared and damaged.
Who paid their fee
and forgot her fragile figure.


So do your worst little boy

You and your dirt.

04/06/2003

Posted on 04/06/2003
Copyright © 2025 Sam Roberts