The absurdities of life

People called her a whore But if they would only take the time To get to know her – to read between the lines I’m sure that they would see that she isn’t so different It’s just that she got washed along with the tide. She smells of cheap liquor, nicotine and bad choices All of her worldly goods are kept in an old shoebox Held together with an elastic band She wished she had a larger one That would hold her life together All that was good in her life seemed to get washed away with the rain Every turn brought her to another locked door Her shoes felt as though they were made of clay She didn’t seem to be able to put one foot in front of the other She couldn’t even cry, god knows she had tried But there was nothing, just a void What was left of her emotions was frozen She called herself Galatea – that wasn’t her real name Her real name was something much more mundane She had taken it from on the road by Jack Kerouac Her favourite novel She still had a battered copy; the pages were all creased There were grubby fingerprints throughout She must have read it three dozen times One day she hoped to take that trip across America Just like Sam Paradise and Dean Moriarty in the novel But life had turned on her Now she was so far away from where she wanted to be She sells her body undercover of the night In avenues and alleyways and hotel beds She knew that she needed to get off this ride Because she knew that the longer she stayed on it The greater the damage would be done She hoped that lady luck would give her another Roll of the dice But when the sun goes down And natural light fades To be replaced by those neon ones that cast sinister shadows The nine to fivers hang up their workday blues And come in search of action With raging libidos and money to burn They all want a piece of her and she has bills to pay She tries so hard to keep afloat But after all the bridges she has burnt After all the doors that had been shut in her face The hole keeps swallowing her up She kept falling deeper into the abyss She wants out She wants out She wants out Why did her prayers always fall on deaf ears? Why did people cross the road to avoid her? They looked at her as though she was something that they would scrape off their shoe She knew they would be surprised if they knew where she came from She could tell them a thing or too about the absurdities of life How quickly things could change in the blink of an eye She could see her life falling apart How quickly things could change in the blink of an eye She could see her life falling apart But it was out of her hands Sometimes there was a glimmer of her old self Every now and again a smile slipped through the harsh exterior But it never lasts; she soon goes back to her old ways She tells herself that she is happy But deep down she longs for so much more She smokes far more than she should Her teeth and finger nails show signs of this She drinks cheep gin from discount stores A far cry from the swanky wine bars that she used to frequent when she was somebody When she spent time with people who were somebody When people listened to what she had to say When her words meant something But frayed mats had replaced the red carpets And the Parisian sunsets and Monte Carlo glamour Had been replaced with the dark streets of this forgotten town She was stuck – stuck here A million miles away from her old life So she just lay back and go through the motions As men acted out some type of fantasy She had never wanted to be one of those headless people Who run around aimlessly in their mundane lives Changing shape like chameleons change colour To fit into their surroundings Waiting for a change in fortune But knowing that lady luck Will never pay them their dues She hated herself that she had become The thing that she had always despised She says that all of her dreams have been used Now she has become the mistress of vagueness She has spent so much time plucking around the edges To try and get beyond the subtle undertones She had spent so much of her life in front of the lens Living a lie, following a script She found it hard now to live her own life She had taken on this new role But it wasn’t a role that she wanted to play She knows that she is living on borrowed time She needs someone to show her the path To get her back on track Because once upon a time she was one in a million People need to see That there is so much more to her than meets the eye But for now all that she can do Is hold on tight And keep searching for an exit That will lead to a better ride.