It's Alright Poem by Stefanie Fontker

The face on the front page
You are, what you are
Prostituta! They call
From their cars,
Their corners, alleyways
Come out to play!
Body no longer warm
It'd be stupid to not abide
Pockets no longer heavy
It's not wrong, it's alright
Put your cigarette out
Underneath your heel
Arms wrapped around
Your cold, cold shell
You hug yourself
When no one else will
Face drained of blood
You rub at your eyes
And stare at your makeup-
Stained hands
It's time to start
Tattooing on that eye shadow
Bloodshot eyes, trembling heart
When they call, you answer