She’s a Barbie girl,
in her Barbie world
Life is plastic,
ain’t that fantastic!
You can brush her hair,
undress her everywhere
life is your creation.
Come on barbie,
let’s go party
Then let’s get a room,
where she pleases you till noon.
Make-ups her face,
adorns herself in lace
To go see the guy who watches porn,
and then her dress of lace lies torn.
She’s treated like an object,
pleasurable, second-hand, cheap but no defect
She goes to a regular tonight,
he calls her his special delight.
Moans not of love but of pain,
cries not of pleasure but of strain
Love-making among beatings and bruises,
testosterone filled desires and abuses.
The trauma ends late, he keeps her longer,
both of them filled with a different kind of hunger
He pays her less – half her usual rate,
“you were distracted today – not so great!”
He smirks and hands those notes,
she crumples them, anger emotes
She is tired of this way of life,
wishes she could be someone’s friend, someone’s wife.
She wants to shriek and scream,
but quietly keeps listening to a-team
Her eyes brimming with tears,
as she hides her pain, her fears.
She looks at those crumpled bills,
then consumes half the bottle of pills
Calms her nerves, walks to the store,
puts up her sham, people call her a whore.
The storekeeper, indifferent to her blemished skin,
gives her a slice of bread and a sanitary napkin
She pays him those few notes – her sexuality’s worth,
she wishes she wasn’t born and curses today – her day of birth.
A piece of bread is all she eats,
and gives the rest to her forsaken child on the streets
Unplanned, unwanted but not unloved,
he looks at his mother – her cold hands gloved.
She walks away from him displaying her cold love,
the storm in her heart greater than the one in the sky above
Prepares herself for the routine tonight,
another man, another painful plight.
A few hours more, and just like with other men,
the torture will begin sharp at ten
Just for a few morsels to feed,
while he’ll enjoy, she’ll bleed.
Credits: Manasi Arora.