Night had dawned upon the little girl,
Tucked in at happiness house.
Oh, the irony, she thought,
The happiness had given birth to the demon in her.

Battling myriad men through the day,
The twilight was her companion.
Abused, beaten and solitary,
Lay her soul scarred and broken.

She had died inside,
Time had since passed at the happiness house.
Early days of life were spent not on counting sweets,
But her rendezvous with customers.

Determination and resilience were her only weapons,
In the tricky path called life.
With each passing day,
Another shot, she would say.