Woman of the street

A Poem by Vikrantsingh

Well while passing by street, I saw this instance and this made me to write.

The only answer I can't reply to is,

When, my daughter asks me - "Ma what work do you do".

I wasn't born this way.

I'm aren't enjoying the way my life is moving.

They call me Harlot, Strumpet, Tart.

Just to save my identicalness I've been vagabonding about the world.

Still for sustenance, I have to do this.

They use me, well of course I've been paid for that.

They treat my baby like they do to me.

Oh Lord! please give my baby strength to fight.

Its unmanageable to stay alive.

Its very unmanageable to fight.

Every morning when I get up - Simple thing spins my mind.

Will people treat me again the same, like they always did?

I wasn't born this way

Neither do my daughter

Still why? people call her Child of Woman of the street.

Don't I deserve better life?

Don't my daughter deserver the same?

I ask god - if I get another chance to live again - I will choose to be called "Woman of the street".

Being woman is way difficult to sustain.

© 2014 Vikrantsingh

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Pragati Chaudhary

"They use me, well of course I've been paid for that.
They treat my baby like they do to me."

Something triggered my insides!
Life is very hard for some of those women!
But, As its said
When Hunger and money knocks on the door
Some woman cant find a better way!

I wish they could lead good lives!