human trafficking

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  Taken: A Spoken Word   Streetlights Hood up Head down One foot in front of the other Silence
Power was not what I gained Rather what I used Knowledge was what I used And also gained POETRY was a time machine I wrote of the anguish of a slave To say he or she was not important
Houston, Texas is the sex trafficking capital of the United States. The average age of female victims that are first captured is  12-14 years old
  Boom! Crash! Snap. "We can't protect the fallen. We can't relieve the screeching Even if we try."   Trembling and weak
America the Great, America the Free, Right?   If we’re so great,   Why am I scared Of the shackles of student loans?  
Red lipstick. Red nails. Red dress. Pearl necklace. Perfectly still; and deafeningly silent. What a beautiful sticky mess.
2016 a year with eyes wide open To a world, where things are cloaked, covered, and unspoken.   This year, full of fear, where humans are bought and sold like meat Whose eyes of compassion, we'll never see.  
Awareness is a word in which we tend to agree, something that inspires us to set the lost people free.  We listen to the presentations, see the kids suffering from malnutrition, the hunger in their eyes, the bloated bellies.
Pass the threshold without an invitation Strip yourself of identity Inhale your poison and swallow your potion Later, wipe this too from your memory   Get comfortable, the siren speaks, 
Him
One by one they pass by Looking down upon the girl that sells herself There eyes yell disgusting words and hatred   They don't even try to look into her dull blue eyes
Where was the
A thump. Then a scream. "WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING" I wanna go home.                 Help stop human trafficking. Bring them back home.   
This is for the women with the broken bones With the shattered heart and tattered clothes This is for the women with silent voices Who made tough choices that were seen as pointless  
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock Those sounds like the arms of the clock, but in reality those are the gears in my brain, Trying to work their way around the problems I see  Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock Nothing is slowing down.
What would I change? Change comes in many forms Physically and mentally. You change the color of your hair to fit your personality. But what about permanent changes,  the ones we never get back?
I hear your stories and feel your pain as if it were my own. An anger and passion feel my bones as i figure out How? What? What can i do to help you? No, I haven't seen the streets nor have i taken that high
Beauty fades; it's inevitable. Our bodies are our shells like eggs they crack, they decay. But the inside is what nourishes us,  mixes together with other human ingredients
Day after day in this room,  all I am, all I know is to their slave. Day after day, I see the others,  young and old, male and female, all locked away.
She had hopes and dreams. She had family. She had friends. One vulnerable moment, and it changed her life forever. Next thing she knew, she was somewhere, someplace, surrounded by strangers.
Her eyes,Melting away,Into sadness,Into decay,People who,Describe her look,May say she's undecided,But not a crook,When she rises early in the morning,She makes no sound,
When A woman lays down and gives her innocence to a man it's described as beautiful When A man takes advantage of the privelage it's often usual Being A good father to your child is unusual 
I sit here letting out silent pleas With the blood that I bleed. I cut myself, once again, Hoping that it will cause my heart to bend Bend yet not break But in the end, I can barely keep myself awake.
I am broken. My skin, my soul, my heart, my mind. I am broken. I am wounded. My heart has been stabbed  and Is bleeding out of silence Crying hoping someone would see…. But they don’t. 
I look in the mirror and what do I see?  The beautiful girl God created me to be.  But just wait a second, it wasn’t always that way.  Rewind 16 years, and that’s not what I would say.  As just a little girl, I grew up in a crazy world.  My parent
She's beautiful Full of life, just amazing as she can be. She doesn't even notices me, or knows that she will beg to be free. I quickly think of a plan to capture her. Then Sale her like rare Mink fur.
she struggles from the hardwood like a creamy stalliondrowning in a raging surf. her limbs the appendages of a white crab spider sprawl bent,slender supple bones. her eyes
Sometimes I dream That I will see them again My momma My poppa But when I wake All I can see is darkness I do not breathe in air This is pure musk that fills my lungs
Rusty bricks painted by graffiti. Lit neon flickered—    Quick Draw! ATM Inside! Steam rose out of street grates as if it were ghostly fingers come to carry sinners below. The sign posted—  
She's forgotten where she came from and who loved her, Those fairy tales and bedtime stories she can no longer recall. Only strangers that smother her in stinky sweat and hot breath
She sits upon dirty sheets Sheets that smell like sweat and dust Lewd lust swims in the air like flies The boss’s voice rings from outside
What would I do? Only if you wanted me to, I would chase down the Sun for you, spending my lasting days chasing a setting Sun. For why would I wrangle in the moon?
What would I do? Only if you wanted me to, I would chase down the Sun for you, spending my lasting days chasing a setting Sun. For why would I wrangle in the moon?
Gentle words, soothing and caring, Filling the holes with stones. They don't fit right, but they stop the heartache, the sadness, the lonliness
(poems go here) Thousands of people taken and killed every day Tortured in every kind of way Forced to do things that no human should be forced to do Without being given simple freedoms wouldn’t you hate that too
We stood. We stood in the streets, On the courthouse steps, In the park, By the church. We stood.
Taken from familiarity All comforts stripped away Just like her soul Exposed to all, disrobed In the most unceremonious Of ways
What would you do if I told you; there are 27 million slaves worldwide? How would you respond if I told you; there are more slaves now, than when Lincoln was alive? Now they’re not all black, and they’re usually not men,
In the night they seek young girls for their amusement sometimes they hunt with bait dripping with honey sweet words nice calls pretty gifts they crave injustice like its a bigmac
The day came when the Sun did not shine, the Rain would not fall, and the Wind refused to blow. The Planets wept but ignored were the tears of these celestial bodies.
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