We Are Not For Sale


Yearning burns

and anxiety swallows me whole;

I look out the golden cage,

at the mud or at stars–

it is a decision I must make,

an act of the will.

Like the girl whose boyfriend lied

and sold her to a brothel in


Too ashamed to go home,

scared of his violence

and too hooked on smack,

she finds a picture of herself at

nine years old,

in every public toilet in the city,

her father’s handwriting

in purple ink on the back:

“We know what happened and we don’t care.

I miss you. Please come home.”

When we hear the sound of keys,

only prisoners rejoice.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 29

We are not for sale.




12 thoughts on “We Are Not For Sale

      • Absolutely…which much literature is written on already, and because all this beauty exists, I just write what stems from my life’s calling, to raise the awareness of humanitarian causes, including anti-sex trafficking. Thanks for coming by. 🙂

  1. Emotional yet beautiful .Memories of the past and hopes for tomorrow.Yearning it could happen again.! regards.jalal

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