Gentlemen’s Club

It’s no place for a woman,
A robust gathering of men,
The gentlemen’s bar,
Strong wine and tonic potions,
Drunk to stupor,
Paraphernalia for her trade,
An avenue to a better life.

Mornings become nights,
Nights are her day time,
Days dwindle in significance,
It’s just another day at work,
Memories she wishes to forget,
Boos and Oohs
The glimmer in their eyes,
Dilated pupils,
As money is thrown everywhere.

She goes back home,
Back to normality,
But soon fades into a deep sleep,
Enjoying nothing but wear,
When she awakes,
It’s time to drink again,
That which she dreads becomes a deed.

Intoxicated and unconsciously aware,
She bares all to the world,
The little pride she owns,
Hangs from strings about,
Inscribing’s on her body,
She wants to cower in shame,
But it’s time to dance; money to be made,
She’s a lady lost in a gentleman’s club.

-Smyekh David-West


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