I still think of you from time to time Melody. Lost, maybe, but definitely turned out Wasn't even out of high school Acting like you knew what life was about. You were a friend of a friend I knew enough about you to care You complained your real parents gave you up, and being adopted just wasn't fair You got pregnant when you were about 15 Fatherhood was not for your friend And these strange guys started coming round What kind of message did that send? Once the darling daughter was born at first you seemed to be adjusting all right. But then you started staying out later and later more often during the night. My friend, your daughter's Godmother, babysat for you whenever she had the chance The child looked just like you, beautiful smile, sparkling eyes that would dance. My friend said that she heard you were walking the streets. I didn't want to believe it. Then one day, we saw you, on Mass Avenue... A trace of youth was left, I suppose you were a hit 17 with a bullet, often requested, often played. You told the other "ladies" you'd be back in a few. My friend whispered for me not to say anything. I stared bewildered, not knowing what to do. It's not that I felt that I shouldn't speak.... I couldn't speak I felt so hurt, my knees were so weak you could have knocked me over with a feather The two said goodbye, I mumbled something resembling the same, as she rejoined the "ladies" on the avenue and the quota she had to bring. Months later, my friend heard she was dancing on a pole, I suppose she moved up in the ranks. She actually asked me if I wanted to go see her, I said, "Are you crazy? No thanks." Her daughter was being raised by her adoptive parents, the same situation that filled her with hate. Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that she handed her daughter the same fate. I still think of you from time to time, Melody.