City lights hit different when you’re new to the street,

One week in, she was skipping on meals to eat.

Cheap hostel bed, five bucks for a room,

But the city moves quickly when it's ready to consume.

Met a man on the corner who was dealing in pills,

Said, “First one’s free — just to take off the chills.”

She didn’t know then, but the hook sank fast,

Two weeks later and she’s chasing the glass.

Got a couch in a flat full of strangers and smoke,

Every room clouded up, every wall stained and broke.

Rent was a joke, and the joke fell flat,

So she sold her nights just to keep hold of that.

Men twice her age with their hands on her skin,

Told herself each time she’d never do it again.

But the hunger came back with the needle’s kiss,

And the city didn’t care who she used to be before this.

She’d walk in the rain, heels sinking in tar,

Trading her name for a trip to the bar.

Glass in her hand, powder up her nose,

Couldn’t feel her feet or the way the wind blows.

Money in the morning, gone by the night,

Numb to the wrong, blind to the right.

Every deal made her bones feel lighter,

But the mirror showed a stranger, and her eyes burned whiter.

Twenty-two found her flat on the floor,

Phone in her hand, locked out the door.

Pulse like a drum that was slowing in time,

Every breath tasting faintly of lime.

Woke up in a bed with the walls all white,

Nurse wrote her name, said, “You gave us a fright.”

She smiled through the ache, said, “Guess I’m still here.”

But the city in her blood whispered soft in her ear.