A ballad about a young gypsy girl trapped in a vicious cycle. |
She'd go into the streets at night and dance a pretty twirl. The men would gather 'round to see the beauty of this girl. Her hair was dark as midnight oil, her skin the softest tan, she was the prettiest gypsy girl to be found throughout the land. Her eyes were shaped like almonds and the palest green in hue, her lips, as red as rosebuds, held a kiss for lovers true. Her scarlet skirts, as deep as blood, were made of liquid silk. Her dark curls framed her oval face, her smile was sweet as milk. She danced a strange hypnotic reel of mystery and pain. Behind wives' backs the men would come and ask for her again. Sometimes she'd follow them home to bed and there a service render. She'd look into their lustful eyes and whisper words so tender. At dawn she'd walk the paths alone, full of fear and strife, her meager payment in her hand, ashamed to live her life. Upon her entrance kids would dart to gain a simple prize, twelve starving faces full of hope and hunger in their eyes. She'd paint a smile upon her lips and portion out her wage. "Buy only what is necessary to feed a child your age." "Mama's drunk," said sixth in line a strapping boy of ten. "She says you need to do the chores and care for us again." She let not the slightest feeling crack the cover of her mask and proceeded to be the oldest one and did as her mother asked. The children all left one by one and headed into town, and as the last two left the house she fell upon the ground. Tears of pain streamed down her face, she yelled with all her might, "No man will ever come for me and save me from my plight!" "I've been engaged in harlot sin for far too many years! This scar cannot be washed away by any amount of tears..." She made a very grave decision to be carried out that night. As the children all came home she said that all was right. She tucked them in their rock-hard beds like every other day and wrote her family a simple note with what she needed to say. "I have not lived a virtuous life, I cannot tell a lie. I want to say I'm sorry, that I love you, and goodbye." She took the knife upon the shelf and without a second glance slit her throat and fell to the ground in her final gypsy's dance. |