Damas de la Calle


She sits on a box
On a seedy side street
Beneath illegible graffiti.
Same spot every day.
Waiting, waiting
(as if life was for ever)
Like a drugged buddha on a trip to oblivion.
But she needs to be noticed,
Hence the facade
Of fake tan and fake leather
Designed to startle
Designed to stop the needy in their track.
But the mask is thin
The delusion fleeting
This 'she'
Is just a pronoun to passers- by.
For reasons no one knows
She must sit here.
No one cares.
Her name is nothing.
She's just a reflection
Of a world 
That can sell life
So cheap.

So very cheap.          


  • orchidee

    A sad state indeed.

  • Teddy.15

    Like a drugged buddha on a trip to oblivion

    Such a wonderful description sad so sad for any woman or man. 💖 It is in fact the every day things we see that gets our pens flowing a reality. 💖 Thank you.

  • yellowrose

    A good writing ) that’s very sad .. that some people feel they have to live that way ((

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.