Stolen people, Stale dreams

It doesn’t feel good to be sold,
I’m so weak inside
But I have learned to be bold.

At seven, they traded me for some pennies
Delivered me from one city to another,
But I wasn’t all alone
There are many in this brothel.

Got bruises and scratches all over my body
But now they’re like accessories to me,
In every 3 minutes one Laxmi is trafficked
And only 1% of us are set to be free.

I wanted to become a doctor
Fascinated by the stethoscope,
But now I have learned to treat the human beasts
Who’re always ready to grope.

Every single night I have seen cremation of my dreams
Every single day I mould them again,
We’re lost in this brothel maze
Almost blind, looking for a helping cane.

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