The Month I lived In A Brothel

It’s 3 am
And I hear
Her heels hitting the floor
She gently closes the door
And walks away from the man
Who bought her body as if it were something he could ever even own
I stand up in my room
Safe behind my closed door
Never having to carry the burden
Of the the change in my pocket
That purchased me
Helplessly I  Lean my head against my door
And pray
That true love
Would find your daughter

(Taken from my hotel room. This was an every day view. Every hour of the day. )