Showing posts with label Human Trafficking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Human Trafficking. Show all posts
Friday, October 7, 2011
When Innocence Bids Farewell
Blooming within the swells of her fledgling song
I am joy
That tender breath cascading a crimson slope
I’m her tiny hands
I’m the miracle of eye’s wide wonder
Can you feel my rhythm?
This deepening cadence psalm
Resounding within your caverns
Wicked men, with swift arrows of hate
Slaughtered the frolicking fawn of her sighs
The only thing I loved
Left to wither with vermillion sieged from her blossoms
All dolled up like a toy she’ll never own
Yet her true canvas drips like wax in her mascara
Littering her gentle cheeks
With the spoils of their pleasure
Barely out of diapers, now in high heels
No one will feel the soft patter of her soul’s yearning
Or the resounding willows on the banks
Of where the wind dwells within her heart’s pastures
A shredded womb, chapped and lacerated with cracking whips
Adorned with a neck-laced noose, leashed like a mongrel dog
Property of the reaper, she bids me farewell
Forced to be a woman, she’s only four years old
Blooming within the swells of her fledgling song
I am joy
That tender breath cascading a crimson slope
I’m her tiny hands
I’m the miracle of eye’s wide wonder
Can you feel my rhythm?
This deepening cadence psalm
Resounding within your caverns
Wicked men, with swift arrows of hate
Slaughtered the frolicking fawn of her sighs
The only thing I loved
Left to wither with vermillion sieged from her blossoms
All dolled up like a toy she’ll never own
Yet her true canvas drips like wax in her mascara
Littering her gentle cheeks
With the spoils of their pleasure
Barely out of diapers, now in high heels
No one will feel the soft patter of her soul’s yearning
Or the resounding willows on the banks
Of where the wind dwells within her heart’s pastures
A shredded womb, chapped and lacerated with cracking whips
Adorned with a neck-laced noose, leashed like a mongrel dog
Property of the reaper, she bids me farewell
Forced to be a woman, she’s only four years old
~Gabriel Trovati
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