The objective of this poem is to commemorate sex traffickers in third world countries. There are many nameless and faceless girls and women that endure these kind of horrific lifestyles everyday. In this poem, I hope to shed light on this devastating issue for all those faceless, voiceless girls.
Scarlet tears form from the pores of her face,

Dark clouds--pretty colors of purple, blue, black, brown cover her upper thighs.
Piercing steel eyes are the window to her soul,
Scenery is of Nazi torture, bloody babies, decapitated bodies of women, eyeless men with cut off ears…

Body screams money to greedy carpoolers.
Just another branded piece of livestock.

Sold by her luckless, greedy sperm donor.
Screamed after by the woman who held her for 9 months.

Nails catching skin, peeling off the top layers, bloody.
Fast moving van with other bloody nameless girls’ faces, crying.
Thrown out into gravel, bloody.

Body being searched, no torn, no cut, clothes off, gravel scratching upper thighs and pain.
Pain beyond imagination, torn in two.

Joyous laughing, men drinking, staring at the newly torn body.
Now, straw mat beneath,
The scars of blood covered a few months ago.

But the face--

Bloody, scarlet, bruised.
Man enters with money- not for this faceless face- tears off clothing…
Hand slaps face, tears at skin on stomach, tears at skin on arms, tears hair out of scalp, tears soft skin of face…

A knife.
Shining, glittering, laughing.
Bloody death.

All her--
Faceless. Nameless. Voiceless. Eternally.


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