TWO SIDES TO THE MIRROR

She hadn’t always dressed like this , she had once been an innocent waiting for her first kiss. She never dreamt she’d look like this and  dress to give some old man a moments bliss.

She was, now, rich with dresses fine and shoes all designer made. Channel perfume, dressed to kill. Making a good  living by opening her legs and getting laid .

Was she happy, was she sad, hard to tell when she weighed up all she had. Money , clothes and luxuries she had by the plenty  but as she looked around it all seemed so empty.

Rubbing her neck and stretching her back she remembers her first time and feels a lack of love and someone to hold. She sighs as she thinks of the family she had wanted before she was too old.

Her back was aching and her shoes where too high there was a knock at the door and she wanted to cry. Slowly she stood and walked across the floor and took a deep breath as she opened the door. There a man stood looking sweaty and shy  she fought back the  nausea, winked at him and cutely said “Hi!

She’d love a new dress OH! something in a vibrant blue or even in red just to prove she was alive now and not dead! Shopping and housework and the children’s homework filled her head.

This room is so dowdy, this house is too small nobody notices that she holds it together, in fact that she does it all. She wants some high life, no she just  wants some sex she tired and fed up with hurried uninterested five minutes she gets.

She tries to keep her figure and buys pretty things but she may as well wear a winncyette nightdress for all the lust and passion her sex life brings! He is always too tired her body to caress and seems more interested in the noisy kids and their mess.

She wants him to take her, she has  fantasies in her head she wants to be screaming with ecstasy on their bed. Or the bath or kitchen she does not care where! If only he would bloody notice she is still there! The door bell rings and breaks her chain of thought she wanders will tonight be different she goes to the door her insides all taught.

He is standing there he has forgotten his key he gives her a peck on the cheek , slip his arm round her waist and whispers “I’m starving  what’s for tea ?”……………… Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!

Sad Lost Dolls.

Yes she is a beautiful child she has that look of innocence that drives men wild. She could make a fortune it is true but is it really the right thing to do.

She will love it all the fuss, the travel the treats the complements from all she meets. There is a future in photo modelling  for her she has that presence that make all who see her stare.

What if she falls into the wrong hands there’s plenty out there who will misuse  her beauty plenty who have nasty plans. No she will be fine no harm will come to this child of mine.

“Mummy , mummy can I go and play?” no my sweet not today. “Please mummy I want my friends to stay!” no you have wok to do send them away. “Please mum can I go to school I want to be with people my age I want to learn and play the fool.”  No we have a teacher for you, there are adverts and film work for you to do.

“Why can’t I have friends around that are my age I don’t the like photographers they rant and rage.” No I told you you are special your very precious. You don’t have time to skip and play face it sweetie  your looks won’t last and you’ll be too tall one day!

We should get a couple more years fame at this rate we are clawing in the money she has time to be young later she can wait. Sadly, sadly that’s not true her childhood  robbed and she becomes sad and blue.

Slowly all her ties get cut  her friends grow few she is neither child nor adult too. The lines of age soon get blurred is she thirteen or 23and a third?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another form of abuse not quite so obvious but just as dangerous. The parents live their dreams and missed opportunities through their children. Not all but some, child models, child actors, child beauty queens loose their childhoods. They feel no worth unless they are being complimented . They are not balanced, being deprived of growing up through a childhood. Basically they are used as much as if they have been sold in to slavery.  Sad little lost dolls.

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