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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I was born to be a prostitute, I knew this was who I would be when Grandmama walked ten miles to clean houses seven days a week. I knew this is who I would be when Great Grandma died and the family inherited the burden of putting her in the ground and putting food on the table. I knew this is who I would be when My body started to change and the tickle fights got messy. The boys started acting like men and the men started treating me like fruit I knew this is who I would be when The men bruised my flesh and it was my fault for being too fine, too cute I knew this is who I would be when I first heard the darker the fruit the sweeter the juice I knew this is who I would be when I cried for help and they cleaned me up so my hurters could have a second helping I knew this is who I would be when I cried for help and I was reassured that love is like that some times I knew this is who I would be when I shot the man who hurt me and no one cared why And I was sentenced to die And no one could see that I was broken Swept into the corner with no words spoken The coffee stain on the coffee table A nuisance easily covered with a coaster I was born to be a prostitute for your pleasure Grandmama was born with nothing and died with less The least I can do is lift my dress And maybe I can leave my babies something to forget me with I was born to be a prostitute When Grandmama walked ten miles home to cook and clean for her own. When Grandma died and there was no one left to see how brilliant my mind is When the men started touching me and I liked that someone could see me When I stopped hearing the word love and no one seemed to miss it. It sure does seem like the world needs a prostitute.
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