Every year more and more young girls are lured to our shores by false promises

Lured by lies to a life of shame 
On promises of jobs, men of wealth 
Awaiting exotic love 

London landing 
The streets paved with grief 
The gates of misery open 

Herded, beaten, abused 
Used for five-minute fucks 
Shunt, grunt, come, go 

Next one, on and on 
No respite, arm-spiked junk 
Keeps them dependent 

Damaged goods, sold on 
To someone less particular 
Junkie whores soulless now 

Blank eyes despise the world 
Hurled abuse bounces off 
Only the pain speaks now 

Men prey, they pray 
God send the day 
That I die 

Splitting wood, crashing doors 
Terrify whores 
Armed police! Freeze! 

Can’t comprehend it’s at an end 
Helping hand bemuses 
Confuses, the lucky ones live 

How many whores 
Are buried on the moors 
How many daughters were slaughtered 




© pronto 2023
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Hi Pronto,
What a wonderful description of the life on the street.It is so very sad, as some of those ladies
are deceived girls, who pay for it with their reputation and their life on occasions.I once wrote of such a lady, and a lady she was .(Look in archives,under Pommer, page three,”The Lady of the Night.”)Well done my friend,Be lucky, Peter.


one of the saddest poems i’ve ever read sad like an angry sky about to rain.


how many men and boys molested or whored and thrown away?

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