Prostitute Tale

With her two children and her body,
She flee from her nest
With vengeance of her pains,
And free from the chains,
She arrive at her freedom.
The stories and tales,
Of all her males are bygone
And that satisfaction,
When she get the right of her emotions are present from now.
The death of her fears,
As she come near to dreams of her own,
The birth of her smile,
As she cry from heart she disowns.
And that beautiful day,
When she embrace the children from her womb
To infinite ugly nights,
When she wore the mask of passion.
But the destiny is fixed,
And she cannot mix the tales of her own
The world runs on money,
Which she struck with when she felt the void in her belly.
The children are weak,
As they seek for food to eat
Her anxiety is now strong,
As she saw their shadow along.
With agony in her heart,
She accepted her fate
The joy for few days,
Are obviating from her memories.
Neither from past,
Nor from present,
But from all men,
comes the Prostitute tale.