A Lost Soul

She's a nameless ecdysiast
Dancing in the wind;
A lonesome soul
Selling herself for supper.
Her rhythmic ballet of flesh and sin
Carries her into the hearts of men,
Stealing their breath and giving them lust for change.
Their coin she uses to maintain the life she's losing,
In this concerto of pain and misery she calls the now.
Her eyes scream with desire, her hips sway with sensuality,
And her heart, it is breaking with the shame.
But what else is there for this midnight ballerina?
What else is there but sin and indulgence?
They are the tools of her survival
And they are pulling her into the darkness of the neon lights.