Jack Frost

She loved to wear stillettoes, It made her feel superior, She sells her flesh in ghettos, She screams yet no one hears her. Beauty is tame, vain and skin deep, A plastic tube and needle, helps her to sleep. Her blood is a killer, multiplying, A baby inside herthat's already dying. But the pain of termination stings like bees, For she couldn't bear a scar of sleaze. There'll be no carousels or candy floss, Just a harlot who cries, and a baby that dies, in a burning spoon of Jack frost.