Concrete Jungel TEXT AND ART BY mirash

She was dead alright. The rough cut told death had not come easy.     All her life people had told her she was nothing worth. Just a whore, just a nobody. Finally she belived it herself.     The cop grinned unhappy. Another whore dead. This ment more paper work. It would not help her now anyway.     Just as everyting and everybody, the Concrete Jungle had its own law: The survival of the fitest, and she was just not one of them.