I write because after writing I finally have someone to construe my deleterious thoughts.
As we age we tend to turn to drinking or smoking
but that doesn’t help when the words in my head are swimming like sperms to an egg trying to see which ones I’ll divulge to the open first.
I write because I want to recollect my thoughts
because I want to make amends
I want to listen.

I write because it’s the only thing that I can trust.

In a world with human rights
human trafficking victims have none
if they try to scream, if they try to fight back
they’ll be so lucky if they’re not shot by a gun

Depression, a best friend of theirs
mental and emotional health consequences
often visits them
but who cares?

Just an ordinary girl or an ordinary boy
who had undergo a serious trauma
feeling hopeless, coldheartedness and loveless
even from their Mama

Memory loss, anger
isolation
they also feel shame, fear
And feel like a new person

Cause the person they once were
they aren’t no more
due to the given circumstances
they had to explore

Stolen, beaten, *****
enduring the unspeakable
leaving them with psychological effects
and other effects that are unthinkable

Praying, wishing, hoping
for someone to come to rescue them
but even the ones that try to help
seems they are not a friend

Consumed with hatred
a fire the never seems to go warm
human trafficking victims
might easily self harm

In a world where we have rights
unfortunately the victims of human trafficking have none
We just have to pray for their health
and freedom!