November 14, 2008
By Abigail Diaz, Washington, MI

Desperate women in tiny clothes

Their bodies do other women loathe

Jealous and wanting their single free life

Yet they never go home alone any night

Leading to self-hate and desecration of love

When all they need is some help to rise above

No rhyme or reason to tonight’s chosen man

But they know in the morning he’ll have ran

So alone every sunrise and busy every night

Trying to just this once get it right

To get them to stay for more just a little bit longer

But maybe their absence makes her stronger

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