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Untitled
By: Yvonne, a survivor

My father figure died,
After that I never even tried.
Molested, raped only 14 years old
Never at 15 did I think I could be sold.
It didn’t destroy my body, but it killed my soul.
Using drugs to hide my pain,
Needing it to keep me sane.
My family cried,
All I did was hide.
I once was told,
I would grow cold
They didn’t know into something new, I would mold.