From here there's nowhere to go

it's a poem, read it. i guess

The only thing she's missing
As she trips over her self esteem
Is her dignity and virginity
As she runs from the room
Too drunk to care now

The next morning waking up was a mistake
She cries out the pain hurting her inside
Only wishing for her own demise

She knew that last night was not worth while
But all the boys will like her now
Even the boy who wrote horrible poetry

Could tell she was something more than an average whore
Her lips wishing to speak of deep untold dreams
Wondering if they were real
of the man of mystery
Who gave her all this misery

His pale hips against mine
She could say, they brought forth
A vile contempt of which
she did not consent