I am a prostitute.


I put on my mascara and line my eyes
Doll up my face and wear a fake smile
Put on my best clothes
Put on my best self
Concealing what lies within
The screeches of my soul slowly diminishing

I stand in parking lots
You will find me under the streetlights too
Revealing my skin
A vulnerable prey for men
Being your lust
I stand outside fancy hotels

You stop and stare at my body
Glance up and down like a tiger eyeing its prey
I let you do it and not object
Because society cast me out as a lower grade
I smile from the outside but my heart dies
Hunger does not see morals is what I learned

We bargain and set off to a cheap motel
Where your lust will be fulfilled
And my hunger later met
You may have a wife, a sister or daughter, my age?
But why does it matter because you are a man
And society taught you to objectify whatever you can

You finish it off within an hour
I get my payment and we go opposite roads
I’ll never see you again and you might not see me
You’ll pick one again later someday and I pick another man for later tonight
But you had the pleasure of my body
And in return I had the pleasure of food for my body

I am a prostitute the one you just met
I fulfill your desires the ones that she couldn’t do
You shun me out and give me no respect
But, you are the one who created me in the first place to be exact
I am a prostitute the one you just met
You will find me at night in the corners

I fill your desire and hunger for sex
You fill my desire for survival on earth
Hunger knows no boundaries
Poverty crashes its way through everything
The path we take to just survive
Sometimes are the ones we never imagined we would take.

I am a prostitute the one you just met.
There are a hundred like me
You will someday meet


About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m an ordinary person and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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