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Her Sin



Squatting next to an open garbage bin,
the freezing rain pelts her exposed skin.
Yet with a smile too awkward to fit,
she perseveres not quite ready to quit.

A cheap dress hugs her girlish curves,
torn and ripped by those she serves.
Upon painted cheeks tears trace their mark,
and angels cry for a soul so dark.

Popular in the land of let's pretend,
in reality she hasn't got a friend.
A wisp of hair hides her haggard face,
and her eyes are kept lowered in disgrace.

Uttering luring suggestive words,
she propositions gentlemen and nerds.
Soliciting though hungry and frail,
she advertises her body's for sale.

Lewd proposals whispered in the dark,
she peddles her talents half naked and stark.
Playing a game with little chance to win,
she prays that God understands her sin.
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Submitted on October 09, 2013

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Emile Pinet Claim this poet

I was born in a small town, (Bathurst) New Brunswick, Canada,. The third eldest of thirteen children, ten girls and three boys. I’m the product of a semi-dysfunctional family, brought up by a controlling, physically abusive father, verses a loving mother. Many of my poems reflect the uniqueness and special circumstances of my upbringing. more…

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    "Her Sin" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 24 Oct. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/73418/her-sin>.

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