The Truth, a human trafficking poem part two

Continuing on from yesterdays post, this is part two.

She’s no saint, but she’s no devil either

She struggling needs food and water,

Needs another fix to take her high,

The high will turn to a low as she’s abused by another.

Sold because she’s beautiful and innocent,

or she was, hurt’s changed her face so it isn’t.

She looked to him for love, not hate,

And now he uses drugs as a bait.

Drinks to numb her senses whilst in the bed,

And if she refuses, she could end up dead.

Look in her head, see the nightmare she’s living,

look at all the parts of herself she’s giving.

She put up a fight, ended with wounds to heal,

Put in a cupboard, refused a simple meal,

she exists alongside the other hundreds who want to die,

Slaves to the traffic, low, even when they are high.

Needing to be shown love, need someone to say the words,

To show that their ears were open to the cries they heard.

They aren’t saints, but they aren’t sinners,

They lost every battle when they were told they’d be the winners.

This is a poem for awareness, listen to this

Whilst you live your life, remember they exist. 



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