I was twelve years old,
Yet strong and bold.
But my weakness divulged again,
After the moment i was being sold.
“Fifty Thousand”, he said,
He agreed and they moved ahead.
I cried inside out a profusion,
All I knew was that I’ll be dead.
He threw me towards the wall,
“We’ll enjoy today”, I heard him on a call.
With a petrifying smile they all came closer,
A raped girl was born out of a father’s doll.
Each scar was red with a blood stain,
Those fearsome memories lead to an increase in my pain.
But I remembered the words of my deceased mother,
“A girl will mever give up”, and then I got up again.
These words from my diary now wish to shout,
Closing my chapter remain with a doubt.
“Will anyone ever cast an eye on my story?”
Nevermind, you come and just hear me out.