The Story of Girl Who Has No Voice

When I was in High School, I was starting to learn that art was more powerful than just being something you stare at it, or hear. Art was more than just a way to express yourself, it was a way to make awareness, to fight the negativity of this world and to bring hope to people all around you.

So when I was a Junior in high school I started performing spoken words. I had always written songs but I decided that slam poetry was more powerful than anything I had ever heard. It was something that helped me feel better, that helped me see that I wasn’t alone, and helped me tell peoples stories (which is what lead me to photography in the first place).

When I was a junior I wrote the poem I’m about to share with you after hearing Christine Caine talk about the A21 campaign and they are fighting to end sex trafficking. If you want to help end sex trafficking here is a link to the A21 campaign for more info.

The Story Of A Girl Who Has No Voice

I haven’t see the sun in a year

I lay face down on the concrete floor and wait my turn

He calls me in, I state my name, and disappear

the next room is dark, not a trace of life in the air

I know what is coming I have done this before this morning in fact

I felt the sting across my face that I have now grown accustomed to

I have learned not to show any fear or emotion for the hits get harder and the tricks get harsher

I’ve lost sight of any hope

no bone in my body has the strength to move anymore

Many of us have made the mistake of trying to flee from this place but they are faster than us,

they have more strength than us, they are not frail like us, they do not hesitate

for we have faced the wrath of our Tyrant

he’s furious at most occasions

sometimes he is calm like the sea

he holds us but then breaks us

now as I stand waiting for the sound of his wip

I fear that this could be the end of me

I fear that with every strike I will fall hopelessly to the ground and be left to shrivel into nothing

like so many before me

it is silent, only his breathing

he fills me with disease and rots my body with his filth

when he is finished he slaps my face

Again, I gasp and hold the sting

I lay on the concrete floor and wait my turn

My mind is not as empty as it should be

it runs wild with vivid dreams of heroes rescuing us

of many nights on an actual bed

hopeless dreams to be healthy and strong again

To not feel ashamed of my body because it is bruised and tattered

I long to be loved and cared for instead of loathed and mistreated

but everyday those dreams are crushed as silence takes over with no sign hope

I lay face down on the concrete floor and wait my turn

He calls me in, I state my name, and disappear

the next room is dark, not a trace of life in the air

I haven’t seen the sun in a year.

I wrote this to give a voice to the voiceless, so that the people who aren’t experiencing these things can be aware that this is happening that people are struggling around them, to always be watching because you just never know who is experiencing the trauma of this around you. I want to take a stand to end Sex Trafficking.

Lily Scott