The Girl With The Red Lipstick

The stains of tobacco and the pungent scent don't choke me anymore. I know where I am and yet I feel trapped. Sharing a bed with men I've never seen before is a routine now. The scars on my skin scream of pain and yet I smile with an attempt to please him. Even though I do it every day, it scares me every single time. With each time a part of me breaks. And there she stands, making my life even more miserable. That expensive red lipstick and a joint between her lips. All I know is, that I'm not afraid of the pain. But I do fear that I will get used to this someday. Is there a way out? Is someone listening?