The True Confessions of a Teen Sex Slave

Blinded.

The light of violence burns to a crisp.

Sizzling and coloring the dark night sky.

Fighting battles across the line of fire.

Bullets fly by, nothing can stop them.

Rape victims adore their attackers,

Violence and terror born from catalytic trackers

Humans.

Betray their brothers, their cousins even the closest sister.

Hear those beats, moving towards the horizon?

They palipitate. slowly while heartbeats rip through rib cages.

Blazes.

Envelop the floors, they hug my bedroom door and roar.

Im grief stricken from just sittin'.

Sittin' around the flames bursting across from me.

Calls for help are choked in debris.

Why did he have to do this?

There's no need to silence me

For i can't speak honestly.

Taken.

Abused.

Ripped.

Humilated.

Broken into a million little scraps and peices

Is it fair that my sisters are also your neices?

The chains on my feet speak for themselves.

Blood.

Flows from my knee to the floor and

Pour.

Tearing from my skin, flesh and soul.

Can he even love, or is everyone incapable?

I mean real love, not from over the kitchen table

Screaming.

Begging.

Yelling.

Pleading.

Louder and louder until words escape me.

Until movement and action scurry away.

Pulling away.

I

Break

The Duct Tape

Away.

Farther from my face and towards my cheek.

I can hear the distant steps pounding up and down the stairwell.

Panic.

Overwhelms me. Debilitates me.

I cannot take the burning notion of your hand sliding down my neck and through my blouse.

I cannot stand the horrific stench of coffee clinging to your upper lip.

Flip.

Drip.

His manic smile gets closer and closer.

I

Can

Feel

Him in my realm of vision.

Binded by shackles of society.

Shedding.

Intimidating.

Judging.

I'm getting dirty looks wherever he takes me.

Useless. Peice. Of. Garbage.

Only there to please.

Did my beauty satisfy you?

The charchol lines surrounding my eyelids

The... The deep fuschia shade on my cracked lips?

Does it intice you?

Am i a reflection of your precious fantasy

or am i a lifelike pill of ectacsy?

Am i your true love or is she?

Line.

Branded.

I have become property.

A modern day slave.

My love, your breath sears the top layer of my skin.

Living.

In.

Fear.

I take a good look at the stone gray walls and stare.

It isn't fair. Your friends consider you a buisnessman and me but a cheap w***e?

Guess i had it coming.

I am nothing but a dolled up mannequin.

Those that sit on a dusty bookcase.

Forgotten.

Wasted.

Destroyed.

My plastic limbs and mousy oliy hair.

Your cold stare.

Sold.

Auctioned.

Bought.

Every day is a misery.

Can't you just let me out of this damn box?

Does my living disgust you?

I am property.

Branded.

Packaged.

I am a materialistic object of wrongful affection.

The flames have engulfed my quarters.

Now, I DREAM.

　

　

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

The charchol lines surrounding my eyelids
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The charcoal lines surrounding my eyelids

let's have the editing...and now about this verse...very compelling lines as you go about reading this as a reader...the actions you use with the single words magnifies the read and you feel for the victim in the entire narrative...this is just heart-wrenching...lack for a better word...shocking of a read...