She walks down the street
Amidst glares and whistles.
"Hey Beautiful!"
"God bless you!"
"Think I'm too ugly for you, huh?"
Footsteps, behind her..
Growing closer
They near her right side..
"Hey" pipes the owner of those footsteps
"Give me your number."
Fear wells in her
Should she run away,
Call for help, scream?
No, she walks on.
He still walks beside her
"Hey, I'm talking to you".
Suppressing the fear inside
She walks stonefaced.
Two minutes..
Four minutes....
Ten minutes
And he hasn't left.
"What a butt, bitch"
Screams an old vagabond from behind her.
What was she to them?
A mannequin, a prostitute?
A public spectacle?
A hundred catcalls have come her way.
She still walks down the street everyday.
