in sadness it ends

trash i was she forever told,
a dog not worth even her
cloak
to touch,
taken a slave,
a master to serve,
and to serve i proved my
worth,
to my knees she would
make me,
the tiniest of dust by my
shirt to wipe,
to her books i a shelf was,
from class to the gates of
her
home...
she never let the sun scorch
her,
nor a rain drop near her
land,
for i the shelter held,
while she and her chatters
refuge
adored,
in unending gossips made,
while i drenched became,
a foot bridge i was where
they
couldn't cross,
a tale of a rich mans'
daughter,
and a poor lad,
kick hit bag i turned,
for whenever madness to
her
crept,
a throw and hit therapy she
needed..
swollen limbs and clawed
flesh,
in solitude i did nurse,
now time be gone,
and i but a free man am,
though in a tin house sleep
takes,
a happy life i enjoy,
while to the streets she took,
deserted by all that around
stood,
crippled by drugs a lady of
pride
fallen,
so to men herself sells,
in kinky dresses and
overdone
applications,
too much of everything she
could
get,
and not even her hair be
there,
forced to wear that in a
shop
sold,
and while to my metal bed
lie,
a rest of a hard days' work,
in heels and nakedness the
streets she takes,
attempt to lure a penny
from
every man she meets,
legs apart,
a display of what be in store,
and of pity it be,
that such a lady this would
turn,
not wary of the dangers in
she
be,
all for pride that down
comes
crambling..
but who then of them
would
have guessed,
that in such sadness it would
end?
©2011