The Transformation

There was a junkie with no money
Who roamed the streets selling her body.
When her body became old and used,
'Twas like a silent child always abused.
When the abused finally spoke,
'Twas like hearing a dead body croak.
When the croak turned to silence,
'Twas like being on a deserted island.
When the island skies thunder-stormed,
'Twas like a life suddenly transformed.
When the transformation became the norm,
'Twas like discovering a new life form.
When the new life form was no longer new,
'Twas like staring at a familiar view.
When the view began to change,
'Twas like reading about the stock exchange.
When the stock exchange gave good luck,
'Twas like a junkie becoming unstuck.


Written for Mourganna's competition: "INSPIRED BY..."