Poet

In the chamber of secrets, where desires reside,

Lies the heart of a harlot, a tumultuous tide.

A tempest of passions, a clandestine art,

Where love and lust collide, tearing her apart.

Her heart, once innocent, now painted in scarlet,

A kaleidoscope of pleasures, both wicked and marred.

She weaves her illusions, a seductive charade,

A dance of temptation, where souls are swayed.

In the shadows of darkness, she finds her release,

Entwined in the web of seduction, seeking peace.

But beneath her façade, a yearning remains,

For a love that's true, where purity regains.

Her heart, a paradox, a delicate flower,

Thriving in chaos, yet craving a bower.

For deep in her essence, she longs to be free,

From the chains of her past, to find harmony.

So, judge not the harlot, for her heart knows the pain,

Of a life filled with choices, where love is in vain.

In her search for redemption, she yearns to restart,

And find solace and love in her harlot's heart