She would run, 

face to the sun

all shiny eyed, 

arms spread wide,

wrapt in childhood mirth 

on this beautiful spinning Earth.

Brimming deep inside

the joy of being alive,

being human

being a child;

Innocent,

free,

alive.

On this beautiful spinning earth.

 

Now she sits 

and stares,

pain throbbing there,

in all the places where

her childhood once dwelt.

A childhood now felt

to be a lie, 

in the hands of a 

humanity, 

who made her a 

commodity, 

who allowed her skin 

with her within

to be; 

Bought.

Sold.

Lost. 

For thirty pieces of silver.

 

It’s not personal.

It’s business.

They told her

as they sold her,

as they tore her soul apart,

ripping wide her heart,

filming every cry

every thrusting thigh, 

crushing every future 

hope she ever had.

 

It was business. 

It wasn’t personal. 

She wasn’t a person then,

she was nothing to them.

She was a shell of skin

used again and again,

a money spinner 

in this world

that spins on money,

a world of human beings; 

Bought.

Sold.

Lost. 

For thirty pieces of silver.

 

It’s not personal. 

It’s business.

This market 

grasping

this product they need

to feed

their insatiable hunger

for fresh skin

pink with hope.

Her skin 

with her within.

Her soul

seeping out 

through all the cracks 

in humanity’s lack. 

Of humanity.

 

It’s just business. 

Not personal. 

In a world where 

a free market

markets her; 

This product 

produced by a society 

where everything’s for sale

as long as it sells.

Market forces

force themselves 

on them, 

not yet ready 

to be split wide open and;

Bought.

Sold.

Lost. 

For thirty pieces of silver.

 

They upload her 

and get paid out,

for laying her out 

wide, 

before and ocean 

of insatiable eyes.

Her skin devoured

by every empty gaze,

her spirit crushed 

under a million thrusts 

of thighs.

Too heavy for her 

not to break,

under all the weight 

of her despair, 

now felt weighing there

in all the spaces where

her childhood once dwelt.

A childhood now felt,

to be a sham, 

in the hands, 

of a humanity 

who made her a 

commodity, 

who allowed her skin 

with her within

to be;

Bought.

Sold.

Lost. 

For thirty pieces of silver.

 

Now she sits and stares

arms cradling air 

holding the places where 

her childhood once dwelt.

A childhood now felt 

deceived. 

She wears her trauma 

beneath her sleeves,

etched into

the skin she’s in,

re-living it all,

all her life.

All her life;

Bought.

Sold.

Lost. 

For thirty pieces of silver.

 

It wasn’t business.

It was personal.

She’s not a product.

She’s a person.

She’s your giggling daughter,

your skipping niece,

your child ripped open

piece by piece. 

It’s not business

when the cost is this:

A childhood.

 

A child.

 

It was personal. 

It wasn’t business.

She is a person,

not just a skin.

Her beaten heart 

beating within,

betrayed by our 

humanity, 

who made her a 

commodity, 

who allowed 

her skin 

with her within, 

to be;

Bought.

Sold.

Lost. 

For thirty pieces of silver.

 

She used to run,

face to the sun

all shiny eyed, 

arms spread wide,

wrapt in childhood mirth 

on this beautiful spinning Earth.

Brimming deep inside

the joy of being alive,

being human,

being a child.

Wrapped in childhood mirth

on this beautiful spinning earth;

Bought.

Sold.

Lost.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

I wrote this poem before Christmas but didn’t want to send it until after Christmas because the topic is so heartbreaking and disturbing. I wrote it in response to a news article I read in the BBC and then researched further in other articles (links below). The short version is that a website that was constructed around a business model which allowed the free uploading of porn videos. It created a market where individuals raped young girls (and women) on video and then received income through uploading these videos to this site. Families of these children wrote to the site to have the videos taken down but their pleas fell on deaf ears for years. Many years.

This company has yet to be held to account legally for their ‘business model’. Below are some articles with more information on this. Please take the time to read these, share these and make your thoughts known on social media. One of the things that I felt sad about was how quickly the world moved on to other news stories after this came to light, putting the fight for justice for these children on the shelf. We need to keep this issue and all the necessary discussions around it in the public forum. Make your voice heard. Sign the petition. write to law makers and leaders. Darkness wins when people like you and I do nothing.

https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-55304115

https://www.bbc.com/news/stories-51391981

The petition you can sign and share is available here:

https://www.traffickinghubpetition.com