The sunrise on the sea

Her smile was like the sunrise on the sea,  
So strewn with wreckage,yachts could hardly tack
Between the upturned flotsam; could it be
That she was victimised: see you can track
The trail of tears that comes with each fresh gust
Of fear that makes her hunch in crowded streets;
At least, when she’s hemmed in, she has to trust
Her sense of purpose, fighting off defeats;
This helps her lift her head; she'll gulp back sobs,
That would be rather stronger left alone;
Or with that man and his need for blow jobs
Whatever mood she’s in, he’d have her moan
Or make him moan in pleasures he’d devise,
Despite her bitter smiles and wrecked sunrise