Swing

swinging-skeleton

United States of America,

And the rest of the freaking World too.

.

November 6, 2016

.

Dear, Sex Traffickers

.

You change your mind like a swing,

You move forwards but then regress like it’s nothing .

You compress my heart and let your own mess crush me;

Yet, this pain I feel is such a sudden rush for me.

I’m addicted to the agony,

I know this is the wrong path for me.

But I’m stuck,

And eventually I’ll run out of luck.

.

You swing me forwards into bliss,

Then you laugh as you push me into this abyss

Of whirling emotions.

My head swirls from your precocious ways to send me into oblivion

And you laugh because it’s my pain you relish in.

Yet, I still cling to you like a child on a swing,

Who’s afraid to let go, because the fear of the unknown

is much scarier than dealing with the tears I shed because of you.

.

Why is it that you,

The one who caused all this torture,

Comes out of this completely clean?

While I’m still here left to scream,

from the sadness I let myself feel;

You’ve made me believe time can’t heal me anymore.

.

However you also will never change,

You’ll continue to cling onto every girl unlucky enough to be in your range.

Until your expectations suck everything out of them that once made them feel alive;

And you’ll smile, because to you, they’re your new prize.

.

You’re just a little boy on a swing,

Moving forwards and backwards like life is a small thing.

You only focus on what you want now

and never think twice about how that could possibly hurt the people you’re around.

.

Yet, I’m still stuck,

My life is a train crashing into a truck.

I could easily change direction,

And avoid this entire connection,

If only I could lose my affection,

for skating on the edge of what could be.

Yes.

This is the only thing keeping me from being free.

I’m a bird, but you’ve clipped my wings.

.

My life’s a mess

I’m in a never ending test.

It’s like you’re arresting my mind,

and forcing me into the confines of a cell

for a crime I didn’t commit.

But, I admit,

I should’ve avoided this from the start,

I never should have let you capture my heart.

I stood idly by,

and allowed you to have that kind of power over myself.

.

So in a way,

I suppose I deserve this living Hell.

You always told me that you were the coffin, but I was the nail.

You said it was my fault I fell, into your trap comprised of black mail.

After drinking, you would wail and to no avail you would scream in my face

And say:

Nobody is coming to save you.

That’s a common misconception this world gave you,

Made by people like me who were already wrecked.

.

And I suppose you were right.

Even though you are the train that crashed into the truck.

It was I,

Who was too high on the possibility of what I could be.

I chose to sell myself, so I could escape the poverty that surrounds me.

I wanted to make something of myself so badly

That I didn’t wake up until I was struck in the face with the tragedy of trafficking.

I was the truck that chose to crash into the train, so in reality

It was I who in the end finished me.

.

Sincerely,

Your victims that you’ve subjected to rape, objectification, mental manipulation, and impossible beauty standards.

.

P.S.

You’ve told me this is all my fault for years.

You’ve won.

I finally believe you.

.

//reflection on the most painful thing I can think of//

                             //Dear victims, it’s not your fault//

                                            -h.f

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