Sold by Abigail Hurst

I am not a silent poet

I sold myself
I sold my body
I sold my soul
Gave the keys to a stranger
Said, “make yourself at home”.

I sold myself
Into grasping hands
I sold my dignity
I sold my legs
One at a time
I sold away what was mine.

I sold myself
I auctioned off what was left
And just gave away freely
All the rest

But truth be told
I was sold long ago
In what was called a holy home
Sold into hands of power and greed
Stripping away every hope
Every dream
So for a moment he could feel
Satisfied and whole
As he unclothed, exposed me
Right down to the bone.

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