The Whores are Us

We were trying to enjoy a dinner out
All I could do is judge others
I would look at them and comment on anything possible
Looks, body language, attitude, personality; anything further existing
I was so hostile and judging, but not jealous at all.
Most of the people I would judge were arrogant, fake whores
The card swiping, money stealing, whores
They strut with their fakes
In their skimpy clothing (could you even call it that?)
I stare and judge, not caring of the inside of the whores
I assumed they had no heart, did not care of anything, were never hurt
But you know they were
You know they were hurt
Because they're the whores that now chase after us for our money
Just to get by and survive
So they're really not whores at all,
but us who have fallen from the chain
Us, who fell from the chain of life.