Every day I walk these streats where people find refuge at night

I walk these streats where at night was the birth place of featus not planed

Concent not given

A broken heart not mended

A Soul forever tarnished

In that corner was where she laid helplessly as men ramped trains through her

Her screams had turn to silent as if we were wairing ear plugs

We had become soo accustomed to these screems that our bodies switch automaticaly to mute to the screams that our ears can’t bare to listen.

She learns to move on

Picking up the all the pices that laid out on that streat

Hides her scars under her garment to avoid questions

Everytime she tells her story is like repeating a same song with different covers, different notes, but the same lyrics, that people don’t want to hear because their sister was singing it last night

I walk these streats where tourist come to view us

as though we are animals in a zoo

We have to put on our downloaded smiles so the news maybe able to filter us well

Watch us as we walk in our developing streats of our great nation with our garments of shame

But come the night when the full moon takes place and these humans turn to wolves.

Drips of blood from their flash, their flash striped of their bones, their bones crushed like ice with a blander, their stomachs cut opened for all to see, their limbs amputated  

Their hearts broken

Their souls manipulated

Their humanity devalued

Their salvation a rigid image

Behind the darkness lies

A broken girl

An abandoned bundle

A filted picture of a scarred face

Just anther shade of darkness