Russian Moll.

Mascara smudged eyes,
And hollow sighs,
Layer by layer revealed for the easy floozy she is,
Slipping another wad of notes into her wrinkled cleavage. 

Wirey, bleached hair,
Clumps of cheap extensions,
Monuments to a better time,
Now it's all bargain rags and yet another fine.

She dreamt of being rich,
Making the big time,
Like all her heroines,
Instead she fell into the mire of hopelessness,
A never-ending trap of desperation,
Never able to escape.