Now my would be lover, <br />You think that it’s over <br />And that you must return <br />To that which you had spurned <br />Find work where you can strip, <br />Dodging hands that would grip, <br />Letting yourself be used, <br />Pawed over and abused... <br /> <br />Inhaling drunkards’ breath <br />Is its’ own little death... <br />It eats you up inside, <br />A little more has died <br />As you swallow your pride, <br />For when you strip, you can’t hide...<br /><br />Karl Stuart Kline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/3-31-the-stripper-4-18-99/
