HiStory

When I was thirteen, I had my first f***. Sex has this positive connotation Of being greatly enjoyable by both participants The guy’s feeling fly, girl’s feeling high And for this feeling, Hundreds and thousands and millions Of girls no older than sixteen were Dragged away by their hair, thrown into trucks Duped into thinking that they were going to factories Stripped from innocence, here are their stories. World war 2, Besides Hitler, there was more to it, who knew? Let’s go behind the scenes Behind all the men and their guns and glory We’ll address the battle on the homefront Of women fighting, so hold on to your gut Dig deeper and it gets gory This forgotten page in history My name is Korea I am fifteen years old I am a spirit girl, or that’s what I’ve been told Taken to a comfort station Ha, to which member of any nation Can comfort be seen in this abomination They said I’d be making socks Apparently being raped by 20 different men a day means making socks in Japanese My name is Philippines I am sixteen years old I took the place of my twelve year old baby sister Hoping that in my sacrifice, she wouldn’t have to pay the price But they took us both My name is China I will never forget the day you struck the girl Who would not bow to you The blood dripping off your sword Dripping down her thighs from the cuts in her sides Forever burned into my memory My name is Vietnam My name is Malaysia My name is Macau, my name is Burma New Guinea Singapore Thailand Hong Kong Indonesia My name is 200,000 women Spending 10 years in 3 by 4 foot cubicles of wood and terror I will never forget the way you looked at me Nothing but a piece of meat I remember you I remember your face Your eyes Your words Your deeds 5 decades later you call me a prostitute a fourteen year old, know nothing of the world you don’t even look at me, you’d rather I didn’t exist? We are still here I am still alive youth forever lost you say I willingly shared my body with hundreds of men just for the sake of some military yen? Time does not erase my memories Time cannot heal all wounds especially if you think that $1.08 cents is enough to compensate for my childhood, innocence, and future unbloomed But I don’t hate, I can’t hate For something like that, it’s far too late Money and official language won’t do at this rate, ‘cause I got a date with fate My bones are weak my mind is weary Now don’t get teary, deary My time is quickly coming to an end The end of our era is waving from right around the bend So remember me, just remember my story. Don’t let me be a page left blank, in His story.