Lost Girls

There were dirges in our eyes
and things we cannot unsee.
Each of them, crumbling
in our thoughts.

There was grief in our voices
and many words left unsaid.
Evil done to us in the dark
belched in our personalities in the day.

There was panic in our bosoms
and all the justice left undone.
While they walk in open
we grope in misery.

The things our eyes have seen
we can only whisper at night
to ourselves in our poorly made beds.
Listening, for when those feet
scratch the scarcely scrubbed floors.

The things we were made to do.
To them and to ourselves…
a lot of fondling
too many touching.

The things our mouths were forced to do.
We could have sworn the lips
were meant for food only.
But today, we know better.

At day, we pray on our knees
to God, the Father in the Holy Sanctuary.
At night, we are down on our backs
receiving thrusts of recitals.
Our rosaries dangling from our necks…
We are the proverbial sacrificial lambs.

We satisfy their pangs.
We are lost in the murals
of their lust.
We were little girls,
nothing more.

I still remember Jacinta;
the fat and robust one.
How she lost her life to abortion.
But the doctor’s report said otherwise.

I remember the drugs we,
The Chosen Ones,
were made to take
as a lesson from Jacinta’s demise.

Some of us would have been
proud mothers of today
but their libidos stole this from us.

Justice has been banished.
And yet, our stories are left untold.
For what ear yearns to hear such abomination!
What mouth is brave enough to speak?

Why not share?

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