Hiding

The moving truck came
And brought her to disparity
Now she passes out fake smiles
And sugar-coated sympathy
She keeps the senses happy
But never wanting more
For fear that someone searching
Would show up at her door
Her hollowed-out insides

Chose this brand of prostitution
As a way of hiding
On the road to destitution
Every time she answers
With the deadly words “I’m fine”
She adds another fiber
To her growing web of lies
She weaves it ever tighter
To protect her heart and mind
But all it ever does
is keep her trapped inside