Your pale skinned girl
whose roses thorns
pierce, red tainted
cheeks

You take the blood
from her finger tips
pricked, smearing
circles

Bright blue eyes sparkle
akin to, the chandelier
above her willowed out
self

Her eyes always glistened
more when, they were
heavy from always
weeping

Sadness had a taste
salt water falls on open
grazes, where cuffs clasped
her

Today was liberation
sold on from one buyer
to another, man of
taste

Her beauty had a price
she was, the first price sale
this bidding meant a new
dress

Today she was virginal
pure white, floral, leaving
an opened button for the
imagination

He lied about her age
a teenager, he said as
her face smiled, so
innocent

In all truth this girl had been
captured since, her teens
for at least a decade has now
passed

Roll up
Roll up
Next sale
Next girl

How they flock to this
blonde haired girl
not woman, they prefer little
girls.

© Sia Jane